Unbreakable Bond
by ILikeMovies
Summary: HYDRA is after Steve, Bucky is back and Sam is caught in the middle of it. Sometimes it takes pushing a bond to the limit to realize just how strong it is.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I was watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier again today and I realized just how funny Sam is and I just really wanted to take a shot at writing a story with him in it. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Captain America or any of its characters. But, I'll keep my fingers crossed. **

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It had been just under two months since Sam had assisted Steve Rogers, Captain America, in saving the world. Well, saving the world was a pretty self righteous term but, Sam liked to look at it that way. He never really got used to the fact that he was friends with the one and only Steve Rogers. It was every little boy's dream and it had been Sam's once, but he had disregarded the dream as wishful thinking. At that point in his life, it had been but now, here he was, friends with Steve Rogers.

The only slight annoyance was that no one else knew he was friends with Steve. Just the other day he had gone to the market to buy some milk and bread only to completely forget his original purpose of the trip and buy beer and the latest GQ, completely forgetting the milk and the bread. Whilst standing in the line he heard two women, probably only twenty-seven years of age, talking. He leaned in closer when he heard them say Captain America.

According to the small amount of information he had managed to gather from their conversation, no it was not eavesdropping, they were just talking too loud, the one woman was looking for the 'perfect' man. The other lady had suggested Captain America and the first lady giggled and said, "I wish. Wouldn't I be the luckiest woman on Earth."

Sam had to physically restrain himself from butting into their conversation and proudly announcing that he was friends with Captain America. He had no intention of actually introducing Steve to the two women and he had no intention of getting one of them into bed. He just wanted to tell someone, let someone know that he was associated with Steve. But, he never did because he didn't want to exploit Steve for his own benefit. Steve was a great friend and Steve's friendship meant more to Sam than status or popularity so, it was a secret well kept.

Now, walking into his house after a trip to market for milk, this time actually getting the milk after eating dry cereal for two days, he had just invited Steve over for some beers and to watch the game on his new HD-3D television. He couldn't wait to see Steve's face when he realized that the picture on the television actually 'stood out'. Unfortunately, Steve couldn't get drunk and, in the early stages of their relationship, Sam had found himself embarrassing himself in a drunken stupor as Steve looked on soberly, laughing quietly.

Sam had stopped trying to impress Steve by now. Sure, it was never a competition but, when you're comparing yourself to an actual superhero, you can't help but feel inferior. Especially when that superhero literally ran circles around you on your morning jogs whilst saying the dreaded statement, "To your left." But, two months later, Sam felt pretty equivalent to Steve considering he had been through so much with Steve and they had both survived to live another day. Granted, Steve nearly hadn't, he had flatlined once and been in hospital for four days followed by another two days of healing, which is pretty fast but to Steve it might as well have been an eternity. They had an indescribable bond that would be hard to break.

Sam walked inside and threw his keys on the kitchen counter before putting together a bowl of cereal. He needed more cereal, all he had left was that crappy bran stuff he had bought for the healthy dietary plan he had never fully taken on. He plonked down on the couch and ate his cereal, watching the latest episode of some show he had never heard of but, it looked pretty interesting. As he was putting the dishes in the sink, he heard shuffling coming from his bedroom.

He stood motionless as he tried to find a logical explanation as to what exactly was making that noise. It definitely wasn't Steve because Steve would have come in through the door, like a normal person, and not through the window of his bedroom. It couldn't be an animal because Sam didn't have any pets and rogue raccoons weren't exactly a problem in his area. Slowly and carefully, Sam lowered the plates into the sink, not making a sound.

He tried to remember if he saw anything of suspicion as he walked past the driveway, up the stairs and into the front door. His driveway had been empty, barring his car, of course. The front door had been locked, untampered with like he had left it before going out. There was no one outside, he didn't see any strange cars around his house and he didn't spot any hidden cameras. The only logical explanation was that an uninvited guest had made their way into his house and he planned on letting them know that they were unwelcome the hard way.

Quietly walking out the kitchen, Sam picked up the baseball bat next to his couch and held it at the ready. He tip-toed to his bedroom door, it was closed like he had left it, based purely on habit rather than safety. He listened intently for a second longer but didn't hear anything. Whatever, or whoever, was in there had either left or was keeping quiet. Either way, he wasn't going to take a chance.

He pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open in one swift movement of his left hand, the baseball bat still held up in the air, ready to be used as protection. The room was pitch black, all light that should have been coming in from the sun was blocked out by the drawn blinds and closed curtains. That's when he knew. He couldn't see anything but, without a doubt, he knew someone was in his room.

Before he had left to go to the store, Sam specifically remembered making his bed and opening the blinds and curtains. He even opened a window to let some fresh air into the stuffy room. Shit. The window. Leaving the window open had created easy access for any intruders looking for a way inside. Due to the fact that Sam's area was safe and practically untouched by crime, Sam hadn't installed burglar bars over his windows. Like his neighbors, he didn't see the need. Unlike his neighbors, he always locked the doors and closed the windows at night or when he was not at home.

That morning, though, he has decided to throw caution to the wind and leave a window open. Besides, what could happen in the space of the ten minutes it took to go to the market, buy some milk, then come back home again? Well, apparently, based on newly found evidence, a lot could happen in only ten minutes.

Sam switched on the light, never releasing the firm grip he had on the bat, and was shocked to find his room completely empty. Then, he second guessed himself. He was so sure he had opened the blinds and curtains, but maybe he hadn't. Maybe something else had caught his attention and, somehow, he had been distracted. It was unlikely. The military had taught Sam a lot of things, one of which was to complete the task at hand first then worry about other things later. In other words, distraction wasn't a word in the military's vocabulary.

But, Sam just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. So, he tightened the grip on the bat and turned around but, not in time to see the stun gun being pointed at him. Before Sam had the opportunity to protect himself, the stun gun was pressed into his chest. Sam lost control of his muscles and he released the bat unwillingly and slumped to the floor, twitching slightly as the electricity currents ran through his body. He felt pain slamming against his sternum but, as quickly as the agonizing sensation came, it went, leaving Sam simply gasping on the floor in a heap.

Above him stood two men, one with the stun gun and one with a machine gun pointed at Sam's head. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly between Sam's eyes, the gun rock solid and unwavering as the man holding it stared into Sam's eyes. Suddenly, three more men ran out from Sam's guest bedroom, then three more from his bathroom and one more from his bedroom. Any hopes he had of fighting back were quickly pulled away as he took in the sight of nine weapons aimed at him. At the drop of a hat, he would be dead. Sam wasn't one for giving up but, he knew when he was outnumbered, defeated, when to stop trying.

"Don't try fight back." The man with a stun gun said, his steely expression not faltering.

All of the men were dressed in black combat boots and black cargo pants, black bulletproof vests covered black button up shirts and, black glasses and black helmets covered the majority of their faces, making it impossible to identify them. Sam glared at the man, getting to his feet determinedly. His legs were slightly shaky, the electricity coursing through his veins still hindering his movements slightly. As he made a move to stand, the guns were all repositioned and the safeties were released. Once Sam was on his feet he held up his hands in surrender and said,

"Calm down, I'm just standing up. A bit edgy there, are you? I have some cereal, would that calm you down a bit? It's bran so you can have it all, really."

The man with the stun gun scowled and jabbed it in Sam's bicep. Once again, Sam felt his legs give way as he felt to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut as he let he pain run its course. He opened his eyes again and, after a few seconds of recovery, he stood to his feet. His legs felt like jelly but he managed to stay standing using the wall as support. He never broke eye contact with the man with the stun gun. If looks could kill...

"You idiot. Don't fight back, do as we say and maybe, just maybe, your death can be quick and painless. Maybe, if we're in a good mood. But, try fight back and you will die slowly, painfully. Understood?" The man with the stun gun said, his voice icy and commanding. Sam picked up the slightest trace of a German accent.

"Sir, yes sir." Sam said, unable to stop himself from assuming the 'heil hitler' pose. That cocky action led to another jab of the stun gun to his shoulder. Sam fell to the ground, unable to hold in his grunt of pain as the pain overwhelmed him for a third time. The, he heard his front door opening.

"Sam, I'm here." Came Steve's distinctive voice, quiet but confident, strong.

The man with the gun turned around immediately as seven of the other men did the same. One man with a gun picked Sam up by his hands and held the gun to his temple, the barrel of the gun applying a sizable pressure to Sam's forehead that could almost be described as painful. Sam saw as Steve dropped the takeaway bags he had been holding in his hand. Steve sized up the eight men and was about to attack, following his gut instinct, but a comment left him frozen in place.

"Move, Captain, and we will blow your friend's brains out." The man with the stun gun said. As if to emphasize the point, the man holding Sam pressed the gun harder against Sam's forehead and Sam couldn't suppress the whimper that left his mouth.

"Sam!" Steve called out, daring to take another step closer. Suddenly, a blast rang through the house and, for a moment, everything was still as time stopped. Then, Sam saw it, blood oozing from a wound in Steve's stomach. Steve held his hands against the wound, looking down in shock before looking back up and locking gazes with Sam. One of the men lowered his gun, smirking proudly.

"Steve! Hey, Steve, are you okay?" Sam called out, fighting against the hold the man with the gun had on him. His efforts were in vain, however, as the stun gun had left him shaky and weakened and no match for the six-foot-four man's brute strength. Steve didn't have time to reply before the man with the stun gun spoke.

"This was easier than expected. You know, Wilson, we came here willing and ready to torture you to get the information we needed to find Captain Rogers. But, it turns out Rogers walks right into us. No shield, no protection. Perfect, really, when you think about it. You're weak, the both of you." The man said, smirking smugly as Steve stumbled slightly, his hands still pressed against his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers.

"You're pathetic, why don't you try fight us without the weapons, huh? Hand to hand? Skin to skin. Then we'll see who's weak, asshole!" Sam yelled, struggling against the grip. He glanced at Steve briefly but just in time to see Steve stumble again and have to lean against the kitchen counter as his knees threatened to give out from underneath him. Blood dropped to the floor by his feet as it slid through the gaps between his fingers.

"Sam, Sam, did they hurt you?" Steve asked, his voice weaker than usual. He gulped and repositioned the hand on his stomach. He was starting to lean more and more to the right as he put more weight on the kitchen counter. Blood kept falling and pooling at his feet, but Steve refused to collapse, he couldn't when Sam was in danger. His face was pale and a sheen of sweat was already covering his forehead.

"I'm fine, Steve. Are-" Sam began but he was cut off as another wave of pain shot through his body when the stun gun connected with his chest again. The grip on his arms was released and he fell bonelessly to the floor, gasping in pain and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to keep a hold on consciousness. He heard Steve call his name in the distance followed by a thud and a pained groan. Sam was lifted to his feet roughly and he cried out in pain but managed to stay on his feet with the support of the grip under his armpit. The gun returned to its position on his temple.

"Enough. I did not come here for idle chit chat. Now, men, get them into the van. Be sure to restrain them, especially Rogers. Understood?" The man with the stun gun said as he started walking out the front door, stepping over a fallen Steve, kicking him brutally as he lifted up his leg. Steve grunted in pain but recovered quickly and tried to get to all fours. He was bleeding heavily, already having created a small puddle on the floor by where he had fallen. He got to his knees and pulled himself, using the counter as leverage, groaning and whimpering in agony.

Sam was pulling away from the grip on his arm but another hand snuck its way around his other arm and he wasn't strong enough to escape the tight grips holding him back. He needed to get to Steve. Steve was wavering on his feet but he remained staring at Sam, as if to say 'it's going to be okay'. Two men grabbed Steve by his arms, much like the men holding Sam had, and pushed him roughly out the front door, ignoring his cries of pain as the rough movements jostled the wound in his stomach.

"Steve, it's okay. It's okay. You're strong." Sam called out as he saw Steve's knees buckle only to be pulled back up by the men holding him. Blood was dripping to the floor, small drops marking their path as they made their way to a black van that had shown up out of nowhere. It hadn't been there when Sam got home.

Sam and Steve were both thrown into the back of the van and restrained by their ankles and wrists immediately. The restraints gave them no range of motion whatsoever but Sam still pulled as he heard Steve gasp in pain as the man tying the restraints pushed against Steve's stomach. Then, Sam felt an excruciating pain in the back of his head. As dots danced in his vision, he watched the men bring the butt of a gun down on Steve's temple. The super soldier refused to give in and they had to do it a second time, harder, and this time, Steve went limp as his head lolled to the side.

Then, the world went black for Sam as he stopped struggling and he accepted the comforting unconsciousness beckoning him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys, thanks for the great support on my story so far, it really is amazing.**

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Sam was vaguely aware that he was moving. As he came to, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he was tied down, trapped in something hot and stuffy and on the move. Every few seconds whatever he was in would jerk sideways or jolt upwards, yanking the restraints tied around his wrists and ankles.

Slowly, he opened his eyes only to find that it hadn't made much of a difference. He couldn't see anything, it was pitch black. The memory of being loaded into the van resurfaced and Sam realized that was the explanation for the constant bumpiness. With the memory, came the pain at the back of his head, pounding at his skull. A dull but bearable pain radiated from his chest and arm, reminding him of the stun gun.

He tested the strength of the restraints holding him back and found that they gave him no room to move. They were too tight, too restraining and the more Sam pulled, the tighter they got. He stopped struggling when he heard a pained moan coming from his left. He turned to face the noise and suddenly remembered Steve was with him.

Sam definitely had a concussion. He was struggling with memory and the memories that had managed to pop up were fragmented, incomplete. He tried to speak but only a pathetic whine came out of his mouth. Clearing his throat and shaking his head in embarrassment, Sam tried again. "Steve?"

For a long moment, there was silence and Sam was beginning to worry. For Steve to have been unconscious for as long as Sam meant that the hit to the head had been hard, hard enough to take down a super soldier. As Sam remembered the events leading up to his current situation, he remembered the bullet Steve took. Blood loss and shock from the bullet wound were probably playing a part in the reason as to why Steve had remained unconscious.

"Steve." Sam tried again, urgency clear in his hushed voice as he fought against the restraints again. He stopped struggling when they got so tight that they threatened to stop blood flow to his hands and feet. From his left, he heard Steve moan again, followed by a cough. "Steve, answer me, man. Are you okay?" Sam asked, trying to remain calm despite his growing anxiousness.

"S-Sam?" Was the broken reply to Sam's question. Steve's voice was weak and unrecognizable, broken and laced with pain but, despite it all, it was an answer. And, Sam was willing to accept any kind of answer just for the reassurance that his friend was alive. "Yeah, it's me." Sam replied, unable to stop the smile from tugging at the corners of his cracked lips.

"Where are we?" Steve asked after seconds of tense silence. His voice was slightly stronger, still slightly pained but a sign that Steve was okay... Considering. Sam hesitated as he glanced around, unable to even make out shadows or shapes. "I don't know where we're going but we're in the back of a van. That's all I know." Sam replied, trying not to give away how panicked he was. He was stuck in the back of a van, tied down, unable to see or move, he didn't know where they were and, to top it all off, he had an injured Captain America beside him who was still too out of it to be of much assistance if they were to escape.

The van went over a particularly large bump in the road -Sam had deduced that it must have been a dirt road based on the numerous bumps and trenches - and Steve and Sam were yanked upwards before the restraints pulled them back to the flooring with a thud. Sam was winded but uninjured, unlike Steve who was gasping for air beside him. Steve's breaths were coming in short, labored gasps and moans slipped out between clenched teeth.

"Steve, hey, Steve. Listen to me, buddy. What's wrong?" Sam asked, growing increasingly worried as Steve's breathing continued to speed up, the moans and whimpers becoming more frequent. Sam desperately wanted to escape his constraints and find Steve. He wanted to do something, anything, to get some light into the dark space, even if only a dim glow so as to see how serious Steve's injury was. He wanted to get Steve and break free from the temporary prison they were trapped in, get as far away from those men as possible. There were a lot of things he wanted, but not a lot he could do about them.

"I-I'm okay." Steve managed to say, his breathing regulating as the van drove over a smooth patch of road. Steve didn't sound okay. His voice was weak and shaky, worse than it had been when he had woken up. Sam could hear the restraints being tugged as Steve tried to break free. The restraints must have been made specifically for Steve because he couldn't get them to budge, no amount of pulling or yanking broke them and, that alone warned Sam that these people, whoever they were, knew what they were doing. Knew what they were up against.

"Steve, don't pull on the chains. It tightens them." Sam warned Steve, pleased when he heard the rattling stop. Breathing slowly, Sam closed his eyes and thought about the situation at hand. He needed to get them out somehow, before the people could hurt either of them any more. Another tug at the restraints reassured him that any attempts to pull free were useless.

"They're HYDRA." Steve said suddenly, distracting Sam from his thoughts. Sam opened his eyes and looked at the spot where he assumed Steve's face was. Sam waited for Steve to elaborate. "The people who took us, they're HYDRA." Steve said after seconds of nothing but gasps for air and the sound of wind hitting the roof above them. Sam was starting to get a headache from the constant noise of the wind beating against the van.

"HYDRA? As in the assholes who tried to kill you? As in Alexander Pierce?" Sam asked, the memories of the fight against HYDRA and the Winter Soldier surfaced. The memory of missiles and bullets exploding in the air beside him as he flew swiftly, dodging any oncoming danger. The memory of fighting Rumlow, jumping out the window and barely landing in the helicopter Fury had flown as close to the building as possible. The memory of finding Steve, bleeding out of his stomach and leg and back and shoulder, barely conscious but in so much agony.

Indescribable rage filled Sam as he remembered waiting for Steve to wake up after barely surviving surgery. Fury as he remembered the first agonizing hours of Steve's consciousness after surgery, morphine useless as Steve suffered in agony. Anger as he remembered Steve's return to his destroyed apartment, his steps slow and stiff, his posture hunched over. Sadness as he remembered Steve's distant look upon his return to his apartment, muttering the name 'Bucky' over and over again.

Steve had been through so much already and Sam didn't see how it was fair that he had to go through more. He didn't understand how someone so good, so pure, had to suffer so often. HYDRA had been the source of Steve's suffering in the van, two months ago and again seventy years ago. Knowing that it was HYDRA who had taken them infuriated Sam and he only wished he could kill each and every agent, slowly and painfully. Starting with the Winter Soldier.

"Yeah." Steve replied. "As in Pierce."

Sam was going to reply but, before he could, the van suddenly flew into the air, turning and spinning before landing on its side. Sam's head just missed hitting the side of the van, but he knew Steve's head had when he heard a loud thud and a moan coming from the darkness to his left. He heard the unmistakable sound of metal tearing in half followed by screams and gunshots. Sam was getting dizzy as the blood rushed to his head from hanging upside down, tied down by his restraints.

"Steve, you with me?" Sam asked, worried when he no longer heard the harsh breathing coming from his left. More tearing of metal accompanied by the terrified screams of grown men. Slowly but surely, the screaming lessened as did the gunshots.

"Yeah. You okay?" Steve asked and Sam nodded before realizing Steve couldn't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Sam replied, staring into the darkness as he heard the last of the screaming come to an abrupt halt. Then, silence followed. The silence was unnerving and Sam found himself tensing instinctively, ready for attack. He sensed Steve doing the same, and he knew neither of them would go down without a fight.

Suddenly, the doors leading into the back of the van were ripped off. Sam blinked as the harsh sunlight from outside hurt his eyes after he had become so adjusted to the darkness. He saw a blurry figure enter the van and walk over to him, kneeling down beside him. Sam prepared himself to defend both himself and Steve, but remained motionless as the figure quickly released the restraints on his ankles and wrists. Sam fell to his side as the hold the restraints had on his upside down body was released.

Sam's vision was clearing and, although still slightly blurry, he could just make out the unmissable metal arm belonging to the Winter Soldier. "Bucky?" The name spoken softly from Sam's left confirmed his thoughts and, without hesitation, he jumped on the Winter Soldier, ready to fight to protect Steve. He delivered a hard punch to the Winter Soldier's jaw, half expecting the action to be returned. When it wasn't, Sam punched him in the chest but, once again, the action wasn't returned and Sam straightened up, staring bewilderedly at the soldier in front of him.

He was shocked when the Winter Soldier pushed him to the side fairly gently and said, "Enough. Help me with Rogers before their backup gets here." Sam hesitated, unsure of whether he could trust this man or not. He watched as the Winter Soldier... Bucky, unhooked the restraints on Steve's ankles and wrists. Steve fell limply but Bucky caught him and gently lowered him onto his back.

Steve was pale and sweating, blood oozing from the left side of his stomach, staining his white shirt red and turning his blue jeans purple. A large gash along Steve's hairline was still bleeding and Steve didn't look completely centered. Sam crawled over to where Bucky was leaning over Steve's prone body.

"Bucky?" Steve repeated, managing to prop himself up to a semi sitting position. Sam looked to his right and almost gagged as he saw the pool of blood that had dried on the flooring of the van. It was slowly dripping, landing on the side of the van just beside Steve. Bucky nodded and said, "I remembered."

Steve smiled but Sam could see the tears pooling in Steve's eyes, threatening to spill. He glanced at Bucky and was shocked to see tears in his eyes, too. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but shouldn't we get out of here?" Sam said, growing anxious. Bucky nodded in agreement and both he and Sam crawled out the overturned van, gently guiding Steve to the outside of the van.

Once Bucky and Sam were outside and standing up, Sam helped Steve to his feet before gently leaning him against the van as Steve caught his breath. He was standing on shaky legs and his hands were trembling at his sides. One quick glance at Bucky assured Sam that he had noticed it, too. Steve needed help or he would bleed out. Sam wasn't sure where they were, no landmarks or civilization of any sort surrounded them, and Sam couldn't gage where they were based on the time spent driving because he wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious for.

They were in the middle of nowhere, cacti and sand surrounding them. Behind them were three more cars, black SUVs all turned on their sides, much like the van Sam and Steve had been in. The bodies of the agents who had taken Steve and Sam were laying sprawled out on the dusty floor, bleeding from gunshot wounds to the heads.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, looking at Bucky. Bucky ignored the question and stepped closer to Steve. Sam took a step back and allowed the pair to have a moment alone after seventy years of not knowing the other existed and a further few months of having to fight each other. Bucky placed a supporting hand on Steve's left arm, providing much needed support that prevented Steve from toppling over as more blood pulsed from his stomach wound.

"You remembered?" Steve asked, his pale and sweaty face lifting to look at Bucky. Steve's arms were wrapped around his midsection, his breathing still slightly fast after exerting all his energy on crawling out of the van. Bucky nodded and said, "You said you were with me till the end of the line. I said that to you once, didn't I?"

Steve nodded. Bucky smiled slightly, and he no longer looked scary or intimidating, instead, he looked lost, confused. "Well, the line hasn't ended, yet." Bucky said and Steve swallowed thickly. With that, the moment was over, seventy years covered in only a few words. Bucky looked at Sam and motioned for him to walk over.

"Take his arm and follow me. Don't fall behind. If anything happens to me, I want you to run to the car as fast as possible. Okay?" Bucky instructed Sam as he pulled a gun out of its holster and checked the chamber. Once satisfied that it was full, he looked back at Steve, concern briefly flashing over his face before disappearing again. Sam's heart was racing and adrenaline pumped through his veins, dulling his aches and pain, providing him with much needed energy. Sam nodded and Bucky turned around and began walking.

Sam didn't know where they were going but he followed. He slung Steve's arm over his shoulders and supported some of his weight as Bucky walked forward. In the distance, Sam could see what looked to be a car, mostly concealed by sand dunes. A glance left and right confirmed that no cars or HYDRA agents were coming, but that could all change in only a split second. Steve held one hand to his midsection, his breathing getting more labored as they neared the car in the distance. It was a black SUV with no license plate and almost black tinted windows. Sam was taking more and more of Steve's weight with every step they took and he swallowed nervously when he saw the graying pallor of Steve's face.

"Hey! We better hurry, Steve's not doing so good." Sam called out, tightening his grip on Steve's blood slicked waist. Bucky glanced over his shoulder and ran over, taking Steve's other arm and slinging it over his shoulders. With the added help, Sam managed to pick up the pace until they were practically running toward the car. The closer they got, the harsher Steve's breathing got and the faster the bleeding became. Steve stumbled more than once but Bucky's vehement grip on him prevented Steve from falling forward. Blood made Sam's grip on Steve slippery and Sam was starting to tire as the adrenaline slowly wore off.

Just when Sam thought they were home safe, only a few meters away from the car, the sound of tires screeching sounded from somewhere behind them. Sam and Bucky both looked over their shoulders and Sam had to stifle an agitated scream as he took in the sight before his eyes. Almost ten SUVs had pulled up beside the wreckage from the other SUVs, and men dressed in black - HYDRA agents, Sam assumed - stepped out of the SUVs, holding machine guns. One man spotted them and pointed at them, alerting the others of their whereabouts.

"Run!" Bucky yelled as bullets rained down on them, the sound of gunshots deafening as it was the only sound that filled the air. "Faster!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys. Thank you so much for the kind reviews on my story. They mean a lot. Thank you to those of you who reviewed, followed or favorited. **

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Bucky turned on his heels, allowing Steve's arm to drop from his broad shoulders, and faced the HYDRA agents firing bullet upon bullet at them. Sam almost toppled over as he unexpectedly took the majority of Steve's weight. Sam felt the bullets whiz past him, all of them getting close but none of them hitting their target. Thankfully. Bucky had immediately lifted his gun, not wasting a moment before unloading the entire chamber.

Sam watched intently as Bucky fired shot after shot, his hand unwavering and his body relaxed, the task of shooting a gun coming naturally. With each shot from the gun, another HYDRA agent fell and Sam found himself regaining the ounce of hope he had previously held of escape. The agents were falling, not one bullet missing its target. It was going smoothly and Sam stood motionless, unsure of whether to run or help, not that he would be of much help.

He held onto Steve who was slowly slumping in his grip, the blood loss at an alarming amount and his body's trembling at a point of such intensity that it reverberated through Sam. Bucky turned briefly and glanced at them as he loaded a new magazine in his gun with precision and professionalism. He locked gazes with Sam, if only for a split second, and his eyes widened as he watched a bullet finally hit its target, tearing through Steve's shoulder, entering through his back and exiting through his chest.

Steve cried out in agony and fell to the floor as new blood flowed freely from the new wound. Sam watched in horror, completely unmoving for a moment as the realization of what had just happened hit him, but he recovered and moved quickly and without hesitation. He dropped to his knees beside Steve, his own body shielding Steve from the onslaught of bullets ripping through the air fiercely. Steve had already been gravely injured with the bullet through his abdomen, the new injury put added pressure on his body, pressure that could push his body to breaking point.

Bucky screamed over the insistent din of gunshots, "Get him to the car, now!" Sam looked at him, still unsure of exactly how trustworthy he was, but didn't hesitate to follow his orders if it meant getting Steve out of there. He pulled on Steve's right arm, the uninjured one, and looped it over his shoulders, pulling Steve up. Steve groaned and winced as the action sent pain lancing up and down his body, radiating from his stomach and shoulder and spreading down his chest and arms, even reaching his legs.

"Come on, Steve. We need to go. Now." Sam said, maintaining his grip on Steve's bloodied and slippery waist, ignoring the blood that caked his hands as it still oozed from the bullet wounds. He tried o pull Steve along, tried to get to the car, but Steve refused to move. He stood staring at Bucky and Sam felt his panic rising, the bullets were never ending and there would come a time when another one of them would get hit or when Bucky would run out of ammunition. Sam would rather get out of there before having to face the consequences of sticking around and being outnumbered by people who wanted them all dead. "Steve, come on, man. Hurry the hell up." Sam begged, glancing briefly at the multiple HYDRA agents still firing at them.

Steve still didn't move and Sam was growing more and more anxious. He didn't want to die and he didn't want to watch Steve die. Steve was too good to die, he didn't deserve it and Sam would do anything to protect him. Despite everything Steve had seen, he amazingly held a sense of innocence, naïvety, and Sam felt with all his heart that Steve deserved to be protected. "Not without Bucky." Steve said, his voice barely audible over the cracks of gunshots. Steve pulled his arm off of Sam's shoulders, calling out loudly, "Bucky, come on. Let's go."

Bucky hadn't heard him so Steve called his name again, trying desperately to get his friend's attention. "Bucky." Steve begged, staggering slightly as he neared Bucky, managing to dodge the bullets aimed at him. This time, Bucky heard and he turned to face Steve, letting his guard down for only a moment. In that moment, a bullet tore through the air and hit Bucky on the arm, the metal arm. It dented the metal slightly but did no real damage, but it was enough to alert Steve of how exposed they were out in the open, with only one weapon.

Sam watched nervously as Steve took a hand off his bleeding stomach and grabbed Bucky's arm, drawing Bucky's attention to him in a desperate attempt to get away. Steve never gave up, it wasn't in his nature, but he knew when he was outnumbered. He knew when it was smarter to get away and come back again, better prepared and expectant of what he would be facing. He knew when his attempts were pointless, a waste f energy. And, right then, with HYDRA agents shooting at them, many fallen and dead but even more still standing, Steve knew any attempts to fight them would be useless. They had one weapon, almost no more ammunition and Steve was bleeding out.

"Go!" Bucky yelled, never putting a halt to the firing of his weapon. Steve shook his head and was about to protest when the sound of an empty chamber filled the air surrounding them. Sam's body went rigid as he realized that they were defenseless. He ran toward Bucky, trying to slow his racing heartbeat and trying to breathe slowly, calmly, but failing miserably. In the distance, more SUVs drove up, and almost twenty more agents filed out, their guns at the ready. More bullets rained down on them, many falling short or veering off course because the HYDRA agents were too far away.

That's when they started moving in. Coming closer and the bullets getting closer to their targets. Sam was freaking out, sweat beading on his forehead and wetting the back of his shirt as he pulled Steve's arm roughly. Bucky managed to deflect a lot of the bullets using his arm, but the bullets were only increasing in number and getting nearer and nearer to their marks. "God damn it. Steve, run, don't try be a hero when you know you can't!" Sam yelled, getting impatient as Steve refused leave Bucky's side. Sam wanted to move. He wanted to get the hell out of there, but Steve just wasn't cooperating and he was putting both himself and Sam in danger.

Sam regretted his harsh words as he saw the hurt flash across Steve's pale face, but the words did the trick and Steve started half-running, half-stumbling toward the car. Bucky followed, his own body shielding Sam and Steve, his arm easily deflecting bullets, the ricochets killing the front men. Blood from Steve's bullet wounds dropped onto the almost orange sand, turning it an ugly brown and creating a trail.

More SUVs showed up on the road, more HYDRA agents getting out, this time with more advanced, deadlier weaponry and Sam knew that if they didn't leave fast, they would be done in for. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the car. Bucky climbed into the front seat, turning the engine on immediately and placing his foot on the pedals, ready to go. Sam climbed in the back, Steve clambering in behind him and closing the door behind himself.

Bucky locked the doors and Sam prepared himself for the ripping of metal, expecting the bullets to tear through the car's exterior. Instead, the bullets merely dented the metal and cracked the glass slightly, and Sam deduced that the car was fully equipped with bulletproof armor. Escape was in his grasp and he could almost reach it, but he was too afraid to, in fear of falling short. Not a moment later, Bucky pushed down n the accelerator and they sped off in the opposite direction of the bullets, the car going faster than any other car Sam had ever been in.

Beside Sam, Steve was shivering slightly, his hands pressing down on his stomach wound and the blood from his shoulder dripping onto the black leather seating. Sam glanced at Steve worriedly, gulping nervously as he wondered where they were going. He hadn't thought that far. He had just wanted to esape, he didn't care where, as long as it wasn't stranded in some God forsaken desert in the middle of nowhere. He looked over his shoulder, smiling slightly when he saw the HYDRA agents getting smaller as they got further away.

Bucky drove without stopping, without speaking, dust and sand creating a cloud around the speeding vehicle. Eventually, the bumpiness of the drive ended and the road became smooth. Sam glanced out the window, glad to find them on a tarred road, hoping that it meant that they were nearing civilization. Nearing help for Steve. Steve's face was contorted in pain, his teeth clenched tightly together and his breathing incredibly uneven and strained as the pain wracked his body. He was curling in on himself slightly, leaning heavily against the door of the car.

Sam sighed in sympathy and gently, slowly, placed a hand on Steve's uninjured shoulder. He scooted closer and guided Steve's head into his lap. No doubt Steve would be embarrassed about this in the future, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was that Steve was in pain and Sam needed to do something, anything, to help ease Steve's suffering. Laying down alleviated some of the pressure on Steve's stomach and he breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed slightly in Sam's lap. Blood quickly coated Sam's jeans, but he didn't care.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked Bucky, biting his lip nervously as Steve's hands clenched tightly around his shirt, twisting it and almost tearing it as the pain became too much for him to bear. Sam slipped one of his own hands in one of Steve's balled ones, not minding when Steve's grip almost crushed his own. Sam felt an intense pain at the base of his skull, spreading down his neck and he felt the area, not surprised when he felt dried blood on his neck. The hit the HYDRA agents had used to knock him out had been brutal.

As the second adrenaline rush brought on by the one sided gun fight wore off, Sam felt a stinging on his arm and he looked down to find a nasty gash across his left bicep. When had he gotten that? A bullet had grazed him but he hadn't even noticed, too powered up, too consumed with thoughts of escaping to have noticed. Blood slowly oozed out of the wound, but not at an alarming rate. In fact, all the wound needed was a good wash and a few band aids and it would be good as new.

Bucky hadn't answered his question and Sam was getting frustrated. He didn't understand what was going on, he wasn't sure whether to put his faith in Bucky or not, and, the cherry on top, Steve was bleeding on Sam's lap, hanging onto consciousness by a thin thread. Steve's grip on his hand was loosening and Sam shook Steve slightly, willing his eyes to open. His eyes did open, his face contorting in agony as he searched the car frantically. Evntually he locked gazes with Sam and his writhing lessened.

"Steve, it's okay. I'm here. Keep looking at me, okay? Listen to me." Sam ordered, glancing over his shoulder again, pleased to find no other cars and no HYDRA agents. On his lap, Steve was pressing his free hand against his stomach wound and Sam realized that the bullet was still in there. The bullet was probably causing more internal damage the more Steve writhed. Steve groaned, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. Sam, for the first time, hoped Steve would lose consciousness, if only for a minute, just to escape the pain he was experiencing.

"Hey, you better hurry the hell up, Steve's in bad shape here." Sam said to Bucky again, groaning in frustration when Bucky didn't reply, again. Steve's eyes were closed again and, this time, even though Sam knew he should try keep Steve up, he didn't want to. If Steve lost consciousness, he would be relieved of some of the pain, the torture, he was experiencing. He watched as Steve's face went lax and his hand loosened completely, falling off of Sam's.

"Steve?" Sam asked, gently shaking the super soldier. When he received no reaction, he was confident that Steve was unconscious. He looked back up at Bucky, watching as Bucky sped down the road. No civilization lay ahead but Sam knew they were getting closer as the road smoothed more and more.

"Where the hell are we going?" Sam asked again, this time expecting an answer. "Steve needs help, right now."

"You think I don't know that?" Bucky snapped, never taking his gaze off the straight road ahead of him, pushing down on the accelerator further and tightening his grip on the wheel. "Shut up, I know what I'm doing. Okay?" He said, his shoulder length hair obscurring his face completely from Sam.

"Listen to me and listen good, Bucky. Steve might trust you, he's naive and he sees only the good in people. You see, I don't. I can't help but detect the negatives in people's character. I don't trust you." Sam said, leaning forward as much as he could without pushing Steve's head off his bloodied lap. He didn't trust Bucky completely, and he never would, no matter how many times Bucky proved himself to Sam. Some things are best left forgotten, others, however, are impossible to forget and even harder to forgive. Bucky had almost killed Steve and Sam would never forgive him for that, never.

"I don't need your trust." Bucky replied emotionlessly, suddenly swerving off the road and onto a dirt road. The area was getting greener, trees springing up occasionally. Grass sprouting in odd places, some green, some brown and dead and dry.

"Steve trusts you. But, and you better listen to me, if you do anything to hurt Steve again, I will personally rip your head off, okay? I may not be as strong or as fast as you or Steve. I may not be a super soldier or a merciless assassin, but none of that will matter if you betray Steve. Understood?" Sam said threateningly, looking down at Steve, worried about the amount of blood loss. He looked back up and this time caught Bucky looking at him through the rear view mirror. He looked back, his gaze confident and unwavering. His face blank.

"I don't need your trust." Bucky repeated before looking back at the road. In the far distance was an old building, one from the early 1900s, a typical country house. Sam had a feeling that that was their final destination.

Sam didn't reply, he just looked out the window as he pushed his hands down on Steve's abdominal gunshot wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood as much as possible. He needed to put pressure on Steve's shoulder too, but the wound to his stomach was bleeding more heavily and Sam needed to focus on that. Steve was slowly regaining consciousness, his eyelids fluttering and his lips slightly parted as he moaned each time the car swerved too hard, jostling his injuries.

"He needs a doctor." Sam said, staring intently at the dark rings under Steve's eyes, the blackish-blue contrasting the ghostly white of his skin. "He's lost too much blood."

Bucky didn't reply and Sam was getting annoyed. Steve would not be able to survive if they didn't get actual help from a proper doctor. A backyard surgery using pliers and whiskey wasn't going to cut it, not this time, not when the wounds were so serious. What felt like hours later, the car came to a stop outside the old house. The house was surrounded by trees and it looked abandoned, uninhibited. Probably the perfect cover for an ex HYDRA agent on the run. They had been in the car for an hour almost, speeding over rocks and trenches, swerving sharply. Bucky hadn't taken his eyes off the road, and Sam hadn't taken his eyes off Steve.

"Listen to me, Steve needs a doctor. What are you not understanding?" Sam asked, losing his patience as Bucky climbed out the car. Sam slid Steve's head off his lap and clambered out after Bucky, his face reddening in anger as he watched Bucky walk toward the door nonchalantly. Sam ran after Bucky, grabbing his arm and spinning him around so they were standing face-to-face. "He needs a hospital. You are not a doctor. Steve needs a doctor." Sam repeated, his hand still wrapped around Bucky's right forearm.

Bucky wrenched his arm out of Sam's grip and his face went taut as his eyes darkened in anger. He lifted up his left arm, wrapping his fingers around Sam's neck, and pushed Sam against the wall. Sam grunted as his back came in contact with the wall, the force of the push enough to almost break the old wood. Sam curled his fingers around Bucky's hand, trying to push it away, but finding his attempts useless as Bucky's grip only tightened on his neck.

"Shut up." Bucky said, his face only inches away from Sam's. Sam could feel Bucky's hot breath fanning over his face, his breathing heavy and loud. Sam was starting to feel lightheaded as the oxygen was cut off even further as Bucky's grip tightened.

"Steve needs a hospital or he will bleed out." Sam gasped, still trying to wrench Bucky's hand off his neck. Bucky lifted him up and slammed him against the wall again, knocking the wind out of Sam's lungs. He let go of Sam's neck and Sam fell to the ground, coughing and spluttering. He planted a hand on the ground and managed to push himself to his feet. He stood tall, his chest puffed out as he stared at Bucky. Bucky was panting angrily, his gaze fierce and threatening.

"I know what I'm doing." Bucky said, his hands curling into tight fists. Sam glanced at the metal arm, wondering just how strong it was. If push came to shove, Sam would need to fight Bucky, get the hell out of there with Steve. Get Steve to safety. And that meant going against Bucky's arm, almost as strong as Steve's shield. But Sam would do it, even if only by sheer determination.

"You almost killed Steve once already, I'm not letting you do it again. So, either you take him to a hospital or I will." Sam said, hoping the underlying threat in his statement was clear. He saw a flash of regret cloud Bucky's eyes before disappearing again, as if it had never been there in the first place. Sam dared to take a step closer, challenging Bucky to do the same. Bucky took a step closer, neither man blinked and neither broke eye contact.

"He's safer here, where HYDRA can't find him." Bucky said, his voice quiet. Sam shook his head and laughed in disbelief.

"You're telling me that Steve is safer here, bleeding to death, than at a hospital where he can actually recover? You're joking." Sam said, unable to hide the patronizing tone in his voice.

"I can help him." Bucky said, moving away from the door and pushing past Sam to walk toward the car where Steve still lay. Sam followed him, running in front of him and blocking his path to the car.

"And why should I trust you? Why should I put my faith in you and believe that you can help Steve when you were the reason he was in the hospital for almost an entire week last time? Why should I believe that you're not going to hurt him?" Sam yelled, pointing at Bucky and putting all his strength into shoving Bucky backwards. His face was reddening in anger and the veins in his neck were bulging as he screamed louder, "You are not allowed to just come back here and act like nothing happened! You weren't the one who had to pick up the pieces that you broke. You tried to kill Steve! And you almost did, in more ways than one."

"I was given a mission. Steve was my mission. I didn't remember him... Not until he said something that reminded me of who I was." Bucky defended himself, roughly shoving Sam back. Sam stumbled and almost fell but he regained his balance and gripped the collar of Bucky's shirt. Bucky ripped Sam's hands from his shirt and yelled, "Enough! We aren't doing Steve any favors by fighting."

Sam fisted his hands in frustration. He tried to let it go, tried to move in from the horrible things Bucky had done to Steve. Not just physically but emotionally. Steve had put a wall around himself, unwilling to talk about Bucky, hear about Bucky... Think about Bucky. He had grown distant, Sam's constant friendship being the only thing that kept him anchored, helped him to think of anything but Bucky. Anything but how his best friend from his life before the serum had betrayed him, forgotten him, tried to get rid of him.

"You know what you did to him? He was in a coma for almost two days! He almost bled out. He almost died. He did, actually, once. And now you're going to risk his life again? Let him bleed out in the back of your van? Is that your plan?" Sam screamed. Spit flew from his mouth but he didn't care, he didn't even notice. Before he could stop himself, his fist flew through the air and connected solidly with Bucky's jaw. Bucky staggered backward in surprise, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he ran forward and tackled Sam to the ground.

"Who do you think pulled him out of the water? He sure as hell didn't swim." Bucky shouted, his hands tightened firmly round Sam's wrists, holding him against the ground. But, Sam stopped struggling and he looked into Bucky's eyes, confused. His mouth opened to say something but he closed it again before any words came out. He wasn't sure if he could fully comprehend what Bucky was implying. Bucky saved Steve after almost killing him? It made no sense. "I don't like you, and if Steve wasn't as fond of you, I would have let you die a long time ago. As hard as it is to believe, I'm on your team." Bucky added after moments of silence.

Sam wanted to ask what had happened in that helicarrier, what Steve had said to bring Bucky back. He wanted to know why Bucky had had a change of heart. He wanted to ask, but he couldn't. He ran out of time. He saw movement to his left and both he and Bucky jumped to their feet as Steve half climbed, half fell out of the car. Steve was still bleeding, standing hunched over with his left arm hanging limply and his right arm pressing against his stomach. He glanced at the two of them and leaned against the car, trembling and sweating and panting. "They're coming." He said, and for the first time, Sam noticed the helicopter in the distance.

"Get inside. Now!" Bucky yelled, leading the way. Sam went to help Steve but was surprised to see Steve running by himself, struggling and staggering at times but running nonetheless. Pushing himself to his limits, blood dripping and forming a trail leading into the house.

"They can see the car." Steve said breathlessly, gasping for air.

"I know." Bucky said, passing room after room in the large house. Sam ran after them, staying behind Steve in case he needed to help the wounded soldier, in case Steve's shaky legs finally failed him.

"They know we're here." Sam said, grabbing Steve's arm as Steve stumbled, almost falling on his face. Steve gasped in pain and his face scrunched up as agony wracked his body. Sam took most of Steve's weight. He respected Steve for pushing himself, pushing past injuries that would have downed even the strongest of men. Getting past the blood loss, brief loss of consciousness and obvious agony, and doing what was needed. But it might have all been for nothing, they had no more weapons and the helicopter undoubtedly saw them. HYDRA knew where they were. And they were defenseless. "They know we're here." Sam repeated, whispering quietly, but Bucky still heard.

"I know." Bucky said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys. Here's chapter four. It was kind of hard to write because I have no plan for this story, it sort of just comes as I write, and I wasn't sure whether I liked this or not, but here goes. Thanks for the fantastic support on my story, the reviews are so kind and humbling. So, thank you. **

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Sam was scared. He had been in the scariest of situations before, the kinds of situations that make grown men turn on their heels and run, but he had never truly been scared. He had been slightly anxious before, maybe even nervous, but never scared. No matter what situation he found himself in, he had never been scared.

He had been on countless Pararescue missions, ones that often put his life in danger, ones that had killed so many people around him. He could have been scared, he could have been frightened, but he never found it justified to feel scared when he had so many advantages in his corner. He had always had some knowledge of the terrain they were fighting in, no matter how vague. He always had an idea of the forces he was up against, not always accurate but never really far from it. He always knew what the mission was and he always knew who his team members were, who he could trust.

But, not this time. This time, he had no idea what he was up against and he hadn't the vaguest idea of where he was, and he wasn't sure who he could trust just yet. And, the only person he could trust was barely conscious. So, Sam was scared. He would never admit it, but he was. He was unarmed, he was vulnerable and he was vastly outnumbered.

His heartbeat increased as he followed Bucky through the old house. He had Steve's arm over his shoulders and he was bearing most of the super soldier's weight. Steve's other arm was wrapped around his midsection and he was gasping for air as they ran. Bucky was in front, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, ensuring that Sam and Steve were still following him. Bucky's expression was hard to read but Sam had a feeling that he wasn't scared, in fact he was probably indifferent. The Winter Soldier had been trained to be ruthless, emotionless... A robot.

"Going into a basement won't keep us safe from bombs and armed troops, especially if the troops search for us. We need to get the hell out of here." Sam said as Bucky opened the door below the staircase and waited for Sam and Steve to hobble through the door before he followed and closed it behind them. Bucky turned on a light and the dim lighting illuminated the rotting wooden stairs that led into a dusty basement filled with old furniture covered in grimy white sheets.

Sam followed Bucky down the steps, trying his hardest to keep his hold on Steve who looked to be at the point of collapse. His breathing was ragged and his pale and sweaty face was pinched in pain, his lower teeth biting into his bottom lip so hard that Sam thought it might draw blood. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Bucky ran off to the side of the room furthest from the stairs and started knocking on the wall purposely and methodically, looking for something.

"I... I need... Just five seconds... Please." Steve said breathlessly, practically begging Sam to let him have a rest. Sam looked at Bucky briefly, waiting to see the other man's response, and sighed when he found none. Sam nodded and gently leaned Steve against the wooden pillar at the bottom of the stairs, swallowing his fear as he saw Steve almost collapse without the support he had been giving him. He pulled Steve's hand off the stomach wound and gulped nervously as more blood flowed freely from the wound, the flow faster and steadier than the shoulder wound.

Steve needed help. Immediately.

"Steve, I'll be back now. Keep pressure on that wound, okay? Don't you dare pass out on me again." Sam whispered, waiting for Steve to acknowledge the statement. When Steve nodded slowly, Sam turned on his heels and jogged over to Bucky who was still knocking the walling with his fingers. Sam waited for a second, trying to decipher what Bucky was doing, but to no avail.

"We need to get out of here right now, so stop playing around and let's go." Sam said, feeling frustration boil up inside of him again. It had never really fizzled out after his last confrontation with Bucky, but it had faded slightly as adrenalin kicked in and he thought only of escape. HYDRA knew where they were and they were coming, he didn't understand why they weren't getting out of there before it was too late. And, despite the fact that Bucky had said he wanted to help Steve, Sam still didn't trust him and he couldn't help but wonder if Bucky planned on trapping them for HYDRA to find.

"Shut up." Bucky said calmly, still knocking at the walls. Sam heard the same monotonous sound. A short, solid bang, similar to the sound of knocking on a kitchen counter or a brick wall. Then, Sam heard it. It was a different sound from the rest, a longer sound, a hollow sound, an echoing sound. And, by the look of new found determination on Bucky's face, he had found what he had been looking for. "Get Steve, now." Bucky said, looking at Sam as he quickly and easily pushed the furniture out of the way, clearing the path to the hollow spot in the wall.

Sam didn't hesitate, he was at Steve's side in no time. His eyes scanned Steve's body, his heartbeat quickening as he watched drops of blood slip through Steve's fingers and on to the floor, and streams of crimson slowly flowing down Steve's left arm, dripping off his fingers. "Come on, Steve, let's go." Sam said, placing his hands on Steve's face as he saw the super soldier's eyes close and his body sway dangerously. The contact brought Steve back to awareness, just enough for him to lift his arm up and loop it around Sam's shoulders. Sam pulled Steve from his position against the pillar, trying his hardest to ignore Steve's cry of agony.

Bucky pushed one more bookshelf to the right, this time being careful to not disturb the dust, to cover up his tracks. He knocked the wall a few more times, listening and knocking as Sam and Steve watched helplessly. Suddenly the ground beneath their feet shook and a loud explosion sounded through the air, reverberating the floors and walls of the basement. The force of the shock nearly made Steve topple over, but Sam tightened his grip on Steve's waist, pulling the super soldier closer as Steve gasped in pain. Steve's right hand tightened on Sam's shirt, balling it in his grip as Steve leaned his head into Sam's neck.

Sam wrapped both arms around Steve, his grip tight and unforgiving as he tried to bear Steve's entire weight as the super soldier's legs almost buckled. Steve's breathing was harsh and strained, his face ghostly white, his brow covered in sweat and his teeth tightly clenched as he tried to fight off the agony threatening to consume him. "Hurry the hell up!" Sam screamed, as a second explosion filled the air, once again reverberating through every surface in the basement, knocking over most of he furniture, filling the air with dust. Sam coughed and said, "They're bombing the house. They don't care about whether they find us dead or alive, do they?"

Just as Sam was sure his heart was going to burst right through his chest, Bucky found a hold on the wall and pulled, sliding the section of the wall back and opening the entrance to a passageway. "Get inside, now." Bucky said, calmly, evenly, as his eyes scanned over Steve. Sam didn't need to be told twice. He half pulled, half carried Steve along side him as they stumbled and limped into the dark passageway just as a third explosion shook the ground beneath their feet, bursting the light bulb and drowning the basement in darkness. Sam was starting to understand why people were so afraid of the dark, he was beginning to hate it, too.

Bucky followed them inside, pulling the bookshelf back to its original position, then pulling the wall closed behind it. They were hidden from any HYDRA agents, concealed behind old furniture and a trapdoor. Unless someone was actually looking for the passage, unless they knew it was there, Sam was almost positive that they were safely hidden, even if only for a while, because no one would be able to find it. And, a while was long enough to get a head start on any HYDRA agents after them, hopefully get enough of a head start to never be found again.

But, it was dark and they were still unarmed and Steve was barely hanging on to consciousness. "Steve, stay with us, okay?" Sam said as he felt Steve go limp in his arms. His words went unanswered, but he felt Steve tense slightly and stand up straighter. He couldn't see Steve, but he needed to make sure Steve was okay, so he asked, "Steve, are you okay? I need you to tell me you're still okay to keep going." Sam wasn't sure how much longer Steve could keep pushing himself in his state.

"I'm... I'm okay." Steve replied and, even though his voice was weak and breathless, Sam couldn't help but sigh in relief at hearing Steve's stubbornness once again. No matter how hurt Steve was, he just kept going, he just kept pushing. Sam smiled to himself, but the smile faded quickly as he realized he couldn't see Bucky and he couldn't hear Bucky, and without Bucky, he was lost in a room of darkness, unable to escape. Sam tensed, ready to protect both himself and Steve, and looked around in the darkness, unable to make out any shapes or shadows, but trying nonetheless to find Bucky.

"We need to go, now." Sam said, hoping Bucky would listen to him. He felt a hand push his back, guiding him forward, and he stopped dead in his tracks as he tried to somehow sense where Bucky was. "Where are you taking us?" Sam asked, still unable to fully trust Bucky, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to. He had told himself that Steve trusted Bucky, and that that should be enough of a reason to trust Bucky himself, but he couldn't simply ignore the soft voice in his head that told him not to.

"Just move." Bucky replied. Sam stepped forward, knowing that moving forward would be better than staying in a dark room like sitting ducks. Sam heard the sound of a lock being broken followed by the sound of rusting metal being moved. He heard footsteps and then, suddenly, light illuminated the room ever so slightly, the source coming from an underground room and peeping in through a trap door. The steel trap door was pushed open, the metal lock broken and tossed to the side. Bucky jumped out of the trap door, his eyes flashing at Steve and Sam, showing no emotion. "Climb down. You," he said pointing to Sam, "go first. Then we get Steve down."

Sam gently leaned Steve against the wall, grimly noticing how badly Steve was trembling. He made sure Steve wouldn't fall over before he ran to the trap door and placed his feet on the ladder, quickly climbing down it. "They're here. They're looking for us." Sam heard Steve say. Sam took a step back from the ladder, not caring to take in his surroundings first. "I can hear their voices." Steve said, his voice shaky and weaker than before. Bucky disappeared from Sam's sight and Sam heard a hushed conversation, urgent and unnerving.

"What the hell is happening?" Sam asked, his heartbeat so loud, it almost drowned out his own voice. He was about to start climbing up the ladder again when Bucky reappeared with Steve hanging onto his shoulders, panting heavily. "What happened?" Sam asked as Bucky lowered Steve to the ladder.

"They're in the basement." Bucky replied but offered no further information. Steve almost keeled over without Bucky's support, but he somehow managed to find his footing on the ladder and slowly take a step down, his hands holding into the railing of the ladder tightly. Steve took painfully slow steps, his breathing growing harsher and his body visibly trembling with both pain and over exertion. He lost his footing once and almost fell, but managed to keep a grip on the ladder and, with an agonized groan, he made his way down the ladder fairly steadily. As soon as Steve was in arm's length, Sam grabbed a hold of him and lowered him to the floor, helping Steve into a sitting position with his back against the wall.

Bucky was down the ladder in a matter of seconds, closing the trap door over his head and locking it from the inside. "Get him up and follow me." Bucky instructed Sam. Sam helped Steve up and they staggered and stumbled after Bucky, Steve struggling with every step. They rounded corner after corner as the underground passage continued further than Sam had originally thought. Eventually Bucky flicked on a light, basking a small square room in light. On the right wall was a myriad of weaponry. Multiple guns and knives and batons covered the wall, hanging from hooks. On the left side of the room was a gurney and a tray carrying medical supplies and surgical equipment.

Sam almost collapsed in relief before he rushed Steve over to the gurney, lowering him onto the metal surface. Bucky walked over to Steve's side and Sam searched through the supplies, trying to find something to ease Steve's suffering. "There's no morphine." Sam stated nervously, glancing at Steve who was curled in on himself as he struggled to breathe through the pain and blood loss.

"It... It wouldn't w-work anyway." Steve said. Bucky went to work immediately, applying pressure to Steve's shoulder. Steve gasped and his back arched at the unexpected pain, and he panted as his hands gripped onto the side of the table. Thankfully, Steve lost consciousness after only seconds of agony and Bucky used Steve's unconsciousness to do the worst of the medical procedure. He pushed Sam aside and Sam almost pushed him back, but decided to take a step back instead, knowing he would be of no help and would only get in the way.

He watched intently as Bucky pulled Steve's bloodied shirt off, wiped disinfectant over the wounds and sewed up Steve's shoulder with precision and professionalism, but Sam had to look away when Bucky plunged the forceps into Steve's bullet wound in the abdomen. Sam looked at the guns on the wall, silently making his preference in a desperate attempt to take his mind off of their situation. Steve needed help, no doubt about it, but they needed to be on the move as soon as possible, and this time preferably armed.

When Sam turned back around, Bucky was rubbing excess disinfectant off Steve's stomach and shoulder, the three wounds stitched up. Sam walked over and propped Steve up as Bucky bandaged the wounds. They lay Steve back down, allowing him a moment's rest before they were on the move again. Bucky pulled two guns off the wall and threw them both at Sam. Sam checked the chambers, happy to find them both fully loaded. Bucky pulled down two daggers, placing them in their holsters on his belt, and an explosive, placing it in another holster. He pulled down a machine gun and reloaded it before placing it in its holster and throwing extra magazines at Sam.

"They'll find the trapdoor soon. We need to move." Bucky said, taking a few steps closer to Sam. Sam looked at Steve and gulped nervously, he wasn't sure Steve could move at the moment. He had lost a lot of blood, and he was in a lot of pain.

"How did you find this place?" Sam asked, allowing himself to lean against the wall and breathe for the first time since the whole ordeal started. His arm was stinging but the wound had stopped bleeding, but his headache was persistent and pounding against his skull. Bucky didn't answer at first as he checked Steve's pulse by lacing two fingers against his wrist. One look at Bucky's face confirmed that Steve's pulse was weak, just as Sam had thought.

"I found it two months ago." Bucky replied, not really answering Sam's question. Sam pushed himself off the wall and stood beside Bucky. He had many questions that remained unanswered, and while Steve was unconscious was the perfect time to ask them.

"You found it like this? With all the secret doors and passageways?" Sam asked, watching the uneven rise and fall of Steve's chest, sweat beading on his stomach and chest, falling between the crevices of his muscles. This was all too familiar for Sam, seeing Steve hurt and nearly dead, seeing Steve vulnerable and dependent on others because he had no other choice. It was all so familiar, and he hated it with all his being.

"No." Bucky replied, he walked out the room and headed back in the direction they had come from. Sam didn't know whether to follow him or not, still uncertain of whether he could trust Bucky but not wanting to leave Steve alone in case he did wake up. Seconds later, Bucky returned, his strides fast and purposeful. "They haven't found the trapdoor yet, but we need to move." Bucky said, his metal arm glinting in the dim lighting.

Sam wanted to know how he had gotten that arm, he wanted to know how he was still alive, and he wanted to know why he had decided to help Steve. Bucky was about to walk to Steve, but Sam stood in his way and puffed out his chest. "Why are you helping now? You want to save him now when you almost killed him last time?" Sam asked, glaring at Bucky as he felt the anger and hatred resurface.

"Move." Bucky said, trying to push Sam aside. Sam stood his ground, even as he saw Bucky's face crumple in regret and sadness at his words. Sam shook his head, knocking Bucky's hand away.

"Why now? If we are going to get out of this... If we are going to save Steve together, I need to be able to trust you." Sam said, hoping his words would cut behind Bucky's emotionless exterior and assassin-like mindset.

"I don't need your trust." Bucky repeated and Sam smiled, not a happy smile, but an ironic one. Bucky had said this multiple times before and Sam has never had an argument to counter with, but now he did. If they were going to save Steve's life, they needed each other's trust. If they were going to escape HYDRA, they needed each other's trust.

"Yes, you do." Sam argued, looking into Bucky's blue eyes, finding them almost as haunted as Steve's had once been. Bucky looked away, his gaze landing on Steve as the unconscious super soldier groaned and stirred slightly. He looked back at Sam, meeting his gaze.

"Steve said something, he told me something and it made me remember. It made me remember the old me." Bucky replied, it was more than he had offered all day and Sam felt as though he was finally starting to understand. He had held all this hatred for Bucky, this unfathomable distaste and disgust. But, now, he realized that Bucky had been through more than Sam had realized. He wasn't sure about Bucky's past, hell, he wasn't sure about anything to do with Bucky, but as he looked into Bucky's eyes, finding hurt and confusion and regret, he realized Bucky had experienced more than Sam could even begin to comprehend.

"So now you remember everything?" Sam asked, looking over his shoulder as Steve groaned again. He was waking up, and that meant that they could start moving again, even if it meant Sam had to half carry Steve. Bucky shook his head, his blue eyes darting around the room before settling back on Sam. Sam didn't know much about Bucky, but he knew that he and Steve has once been inseparable. Steve's words repeated in Sam's head as he waited for Bucky's answer.

_Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky. _

"No." He answered, and Sam was almost sure he saw Bucky's eyes glisten with unshed tears, before being blinked away as quickly as they came.

"How did you survive?" Sam asked, and he couldn't help but stare at the metal arm by Bucky's side. It was strong, almost as strong as Steve's shield, and if Bucky could really be trusted, the metal arm could be their greatest weapon. "The fall. How did you survive the fall?" Sam repeated. Steve had told him that HYDRA must have done something to allow Bucky to survive the fall, but he didn't understand what. Bucky couldn't have the same serum as Steve had... Could he? Was Bucky a super soldier or was he just using his metal arm as his shield? Sam wanted to know what HYDRA had done to him, he wanted to know how they had managed to turn Bucky against his best friend, and how they had kept him alive and strong after all those years.

"HYDRA." Bucky replied, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Sam. This was the most he had told anyone, in fact, it was the most he had spoken to someone since Doctor Zola had changed him. Sam sensed his hesitancy but pushed further, wanting, _needing_, to know more.

"Did they put a serum in you? Like with Steve? Is that how you survived?" Sam asked, watching as Bucky's eyes grew narrow with concentration. Suddenly, Bucky's head jerked to the side and he closed his eyes, his neck tilting as he listened for something Sam couldn't hear. Bucky's eyes shot open and he ran to the wall, lifting off another machine gun and handing it to Sam.

"Get Steve, now. Follow me." Bucky said, pulling his gun out of its holster and holding it at the ready. He stood with his head just propped out of the door as he listened intently. Sam ran to Steve, not daring to waste a second longer interrogating Bucky, their lives were all in danger and interrogating Bucky could wait. Sam shook Steve gently at first, but when he found it had no effect on the soldier, he shook harder and was pleased when Steve's eyes opened. Pained blue eyes met his and he smiled sadly in an attempt to calm Steve as he flailed, disoriented and in pain, and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. The contact calmed Steve down and he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, barely able to hold up his weight.

"Come on, Steve. We need to go." Sam said, pulling Steve's arm around his shoulders and lifting him off the gurney. Steve gasped in pain and tears filled his eyes, some falling as he squeezed them shut. But, Sam had to keep moving, so he pulled Steve up as he whispered, "It's okay, Steve. You can do this, you have to. It's okay." Steve nodded and gulped as he tried to straighten up as much as possible, although it wasn't much. He stood hunched over and barely able to stay upright, even with Sam's support.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, glancing at Sam then at Bucky, noticing his tense body and his gun held at the ready. Sam looked at Bucky and also wondered what had gotten him so worked up, in such a panic in a matter of only seconds. "Are they coming?" Steve asked, taking the extra gun Sam held out to him and checking the chamber. Bucky nodded in response and Sam felt his heart sink. Steve was too injured to get anywhere far enough from the HYDRA agents, but they had to try, they needed to move.

"They found the trap door. They're coming." Bucky said and he motioned for Steve and Sam to follow. They did, running around the corner and sprinting as fast as they could down the passageway. Steve's breathing had turned into pained gasps, but he pulled his arm off of Sam's shoulders and held the gun in both hands as he exerted himself in an attempt to keep up with Bucky's fast pace.

"Steve..." Sam whispered, noticing how Steve stumbled every now and then. He tried to take Steve's arm again but Steve shook his head. New blood dotted the bandaging on his shoulder and stomach, but the blood flow was slow and could wait to be looked at for a while. By the looks of it, it would have to wait.

"No, Sam. You... You need two hands, I... I can't slow you d-down. It's better... This way." Steve gasped and Sam nodded reluctantly. He hated this, seeing Steve like this. And, worst of all, he could now hear the footsteps getting closer. There were so many, and they were gaining ground fast.

"You better have another secret tunnel somewhere here." Sam commented as he fell behind Steve, making sure he could protect Steve if anything were to happen and they were to get caught in the line of fire. "Or a bazooka or something." Bucky made no reply and Sam assumed that they were already in the last secret passage, already holding the best of the weaponry.

The footsteps were getting closer, the voices louder, the sound of gun metal hitting the Kevlar vests getting more distinct. Suddenly, the footsteps were coming from both directions and before Sam knew it, they were trapped between two teams of HYDRA agents, holding their guns at the ready, prepared to shoot. And, in only a few seconds, a million thoughts ran through Sam's mind.

He understood the HYDRA agents finding the entrance they had come through, if they looked hard enough they were guaranteed to have found it, but he didn't understand how the men had come from the opposite direction. Judging by how far they had run, they were already at least two miles away from the actual house, which meant that the HYDRA soldiers had to have been searching specifically for another entrance that far away from the house at least. That meant they must have known about the entrance, and since Bucky had made the passageways himself, there was only one reasonable explanation. Or, at least, for Sam there was. Bucky had told HYDRA where to find Steve.

Bucky had betrayed Steve's trust again and ratted him out, signed his death certificate, again. Bucky had led HYDRA right to Steve, and Sam had been idiotic enough to allow him to. Sam had been stupid enough to ignore the nagging in his head and trust Bucky just enough to get them out of there.

"You told them where to find us?" Sam asked, his voice hoarse with anger. Steve looked at Sam then at Bucky, shaking his head and lowering his gun. His eyes filled with tears as he met Bucky's gaze. He had thought Bucky had come back to help them, he thought Bucky had remembered. Well, it seemed he had thought wrong. Bucky had only ever wanted to kill him and Sam, and that hurt more than any bullet wound Steve had ever had.

"Bucky?" Steve asked, waiting for some form of denial or confirmation, waiting to hear the truth. His voice was so weak, so broken, so hoarse with betrayal, that Sam had to swallow the lump in his throat at hearing Captain America so hurt, so wounded. So... Heartbroken. Bucky shook his head but said nothing as he raised his gun and pointed it at Steve, aiming it directly between Steve's eyes.

Steve blinked away the tears as he watched Bucky cock the gun, ready to shoot. Sam watched in a frozen horror as Steve was betrayed by his best friend for the second time in only two months. He watched as Steve and Bucky stared at each other, both of their gazes intense and unwavering. Bucky was about to kill Steve, but Sam wouldn't let him hurt Steve again. Sam wouldn't let him get that far. He raised his own gun, pointing it at Bucky's temple, his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot.

"Winter Soldier... Bucky, is it?" A voice called out from the back of the crowd. The HYDRA agents stepped to the side, creating a path for the speaker to walk to the front. The speaker was wearing black, just like the other soldiers, but his face was completely hidden by the shadows in the dark underground passage. "I thought you quod make this harder for us. I thought it would be harder finding Rogers. It appears I was wrong."

Bucky didn't turn away from Steve, but Sam saw his eyes twitch. Sam knew that voice, he had heard it before. The man lifted his head, exposing his face. It was scarred, still pink from fresh wounds, but Sam recognized him immediately. And, it appeared Steve did, too. "Rumlow?" Steve asked, shaking his head in disbelief. Sam glanced from Rumlow to Steve and back again, realizing how complicated the situation had just become. Realizing how truly stuck they were, unable to shoot their way out, they were grossly outnumbered.

"In the flesh." Rumlow replied with a malicious smile, raising his own gun. They stood in a square, Rumlow pointing his gun at Steve, Bucky pointing his gun at Steve, Sam pointing his gun at Bucky and Steve pointing his gun at Rumlow. HYDRA agents surrounded them, their guns held steadily at their sides, but their fingers rested on the triggers.

"I'm sorry." Bucky said to Steve before he fired his gun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. So, this chapter is a bit different from the others. I usually write in Sam's point of view, mainly, but for this chapter I felt like I needed to write from no particular point of view in order to fully explain what was going on. So, the chapter will jump from person to person instead of only being centered on Sam and his thoughts.**

**Once again, thank you for the absolutely amazing support on my story! The reviews are really so great and they are so supportive, so thank you.**

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"I'm sorry." Bucky said. His voice was soft and it lacked the conviction Sam had become so used to. Tears were brimming in Bucky's eyes and threatening to spill, but in the dim lighting of the passageway, they were barely noticeable unless you were looking. And Steve was looking. Bucky nodded, it was a small and almost unnoticeable nod, but Steve saw it and he immediately understood what Bucky was going to do.

Steve ducked just as Bucky fired the gun, and the bullet whizzed through the air and over Steve's head before embedding itself in the forehead of one of the many HYDRA agents. The HYDRA agent fell to the floor as Bucky and Sam and Steve surveyed their surroundings. The passageway was about six meters wide and behind the second group of HYDRA agents, the tunnel split into two separate tunnels going in opposite directions. Sam and Steve and Bucky were only meters away from the tunnels but the HYDRA agents were blocking their way, and in order to get out of there, they had to get through the agents first. They had no choice.

Immediately, pandemonium broke out.

Before the dead body of the HYDRA agent even hit the ground, Bucky had pulled a modified grenade from its holster and thrown it into the crowd of agents. The agents took a second to realize what had happened, what had been thrown at them, a second they couldn't afford. As it hit the ground, it exploded. Fire and burning uniforms and metal and blood flew through the air, landing on the few surviving HYDRA agents of that crowd. Whatever survivors were left were writhing on the ground as they clutched at missing limbs or impaled body parts, their blood mixing in with the hardened soil of the tunnel floor.

The force of the grenade blew Steve and Sam and Rumlow back as it caught them off guard. Their weapons were ripped from their hands and they skidded across the floor, landing far out of reach. White light blinded them as the fire intensified slightly before dying out, the last remains of fire burning on the uniforms of the dead agents. Heat burnt them, radiating off their skin. Sam felt a burning sensation up his leg as his body was flung through the air and he hit a HYDRA agent from the opposite crowd and they landed on the ground with a loud thud. He looked down and grunted in pain and shock as he spotted the small piece of metal imbedded in his upper thigh. With a pained groan and a grimace, he managed to pull it out. Blood oozed out of the wound and down his dirtied pants, staining them red.

The HYDRA agent below him was unconscious and blood was pouring from a wound in his forehead, a piece of metal similar to the one that had been in Sam's leg stuck out of the skin. He wasn't dead yet, but with an injury like that, Sam was almost sure he wouldn't last much longer. Above Sam's head, bullets tore through the air, filling the passageway with the almost unbearably loud sound of gunfire. The group of HYDRA agents that had been unlucky enough to find the grenade in the middle of their crowd were now all motionless, lying in a bloodied heap on the ground. Anyone one who had survived the initial explosion had already succumbed to blood loss, or gone into hypovolemic shock.

The second group of HYDRA agents that had come from the opposite direction were barely scathed by the grenade, and apart form the dead agent underneath Sam, they all survived. They were pointing their guns at Bucky and he was skillfully and luckily deflecting them using his arm as a shield. Bullet after bullet hit the metal and they crumpled on impact, falling uselessly to the ground with a barely audible clink. The HYDRA agents were advancing, taking slow and deliberate steps as their gunfire continued raining down on Bucky.

Whenever he could, Bucky fired his own gun, and each bullet he fired hit its target, exactly. One HYDRA agent fell, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the head. Then another, and another and another. Until Bucky's gun clicked, indicating an empty chamber. Bucky cursed under his breath, knowing that there was no time to reload the weapon as long as bullets continued coming at him. He spent a moment trying to find his other gun. That one moment of distraction was all the time the HYDRA agents needed to finally hit their target. A bullet tore through the flesh of Bucky's thigh, creating a small and ultimately insignificant wound.

But, it still hurt and Bucky stifled a cry of pain as his leg gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor. He fell on top of one of the dead HYDRA agents, and he grabbed him and used him as a shield as more bullets were fired at him. The body he was using as a shield was being forcefully pushed back as bullet after bullet embedded itself in his chest. Bucky scrambled backwards, unable to let go of his human shield, until he could reach one of the machine guns that one of the fallen HYDRA agents had dropped. He picked it up quickly and peeked out over the shoulder of his human shield, firing rapidly and hitting six more HYDRA agents, killing them instantly.

He jumped up, ignoring the pain radiating from the bullet wound, and kept shooting until the chamber clicked empty again. There were only about twenty more agents left, but they were fast and had great aim and they outnumbered Steve and Sam and Bucky. Bucky felt the blood streaming down his leg, but he forgot about it as he felt electricity jolt though him. A modified stun gun was sending electricity through his chest, tearing his shirt and finding purchase on his skin. The three prods burnt him and his limbs suddenly lost all feeling as he fell to the ground in a convulsing heap. His vision grayed, his head felt like it was going to explode, but through the agony and fight for consciousness, Bucky heard soft, desperate whimpers coming from his side. And he knew those whimpers were Steve's.

"I'm coming, Steve. I'm coming." Bucky whispered, more to himself than to Steve. He had watched his friend lie underneath him in a bloodied, barely alive heap two months ago, and he had been the cause of it that time, but this time, he would make damn sure that whoever had hurt Steve would pay. He would make sure that he could protect Steve this time. He would make sure that he could repay the debt he owed to Steve. No matter what.

Steve was gasping for air on the ground only feet away from Bucky, curling in on himself as agonizing pain tore through his body, radiating from his shoulder and stomach and chest. The impact of the grenade had blasted him backwards and he had hit the wall hard, his chest coming into contact with the unforgiving mix of cement and soil. He had felt his ribs crack and his vision had blurred. He didn't care about the fact that he no longer had a gun, he was too far gone in the pain to even notice.

He was gasping and panting and whimpering on the floor as fresh blood pulsed out of the reopened bullet wounds. His eyes were closed, squeezed shut tightly as he fought off the pain. So, he didn't see Rumlow approach him. Rumlow had landed on a HYDRA agent and was basically unscathed from the explosion other than a nasty gash on his forehead. He picked the trembling super soldier up by his neck and pushed him against the wall, adrenalin and anger coursing through his veins.

Steve gasped as his back came into contact with the wall again. The dim lighting from the lightbulbs on the ceiling made his already pale and sweaty skin look paler. Rumlow wrapped his hand around Steve's neck, squeezing so tightly that Steve's lips started turning blue. Steve struggled in vain, his trembling arms lifting to try pry the hand away from his neck. But Rumlow was too strong and too determined, and his grip was too tight. Summoning all his strength, Steve fisted his hand and drove it into Rumlow's stomach. The force of the hit sent Rumlow staggering backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing on his back with a loud thud.

Steve almost collapsed as the hand around his neck was no longer there to hold him up, but his sheer determination to get out of that god damn tunnel and get Bucky and Sam to safety kept him up. He ran forward, jumping onto a fallen Rumlow and grabbing him around the neck. Rumlow gasped and struggled beneath Steve but Steve's grip was unforgiving and unrelenting. Blood poured from Steve's wounds and his entire body ached so badly he could no longer distinguish what was actually the source of the pain. But he kept pushing himself. As long as he could keep fighting, he would.

His left hand held Rumlow down as his right hand curled into a fist and connected solidly with Rumlow's face. Steve heard a satisfying crunch, barely audible over the din of gunfire and cries of pain, but still heard. Blood pulsed from Rumlow's broken nose and his hands tightened on Steve's biceps as he struggled to push the super soldier off of him. Steve stayed on top of Rumlow, staring into the eyes of a traitor. Steve had trusted Rumlow once, he had even like him, only to find out that Rumlow had planned on turning on him all along.

"I thought we were friends." Steve said, just loud enough for Rumlow to hear. He should have noticed the signs before. There had been indications, barely noticeable, barely recognizable, but here had been indications nonetheless. Small slips of the tongue, silent glances communicating with other undercover HYDRA agents on the STRIKE force. They had been there, but Steve had been too foolish, too oblivious, to notice them when he should have.

"Hail HYDRA." Rumlow grunted as Steve's fist connected angrily with face again, Steve's knuckles connecting with his cheekbone. Steve's knuckles split open and his blood was mixing with Rumlow's as punch after punch was thrown. Two months of replaying the day SHIELD fell, two months of wondering why so many people had turned on him, two months of confusion and anger and hurt, were fueling Steve's brutal attack. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't. He was too angry, too upset, too betrayed.

Steve suddenly felt an indescribable pain spike from his stomach as Rumlow fisted his own hand and pushed it against Steve's bullet wound. He pushed until blood from Steve's wound was pouring down his own fingers and streaming down his forearm. He pushed until Steve's body convulsed in agony and he fell off Rumlow and onto the floor, his body trembling with new ferocity. Steve was barely hanging onto consciousness, but Rumlow wanted to keep him alive for just long enough to make him suffer.

Sam watched Steve struggle on the floor as Rumlow got to his feet and loomed over him. Rumlow kicked out, his foot connecting with Steve's stomach and chest again and again and again. Sam's attention was drawn away from Steve as a bullet grazed his stomach, sending pain coursing through his stomach and up his chest. Sam turned just in time to spot the HYDRA agent coming at him, his gun raised and ready to fire again. Sam dodged the next bullet, miraculously, luckily, and he ran forward. He grabbed the agent's wrist and twisted it before the agent even had time to fire again. The agent screamed and dropped the gun as his wrist broke beneath Sam's hold.

Sam kicked, catching the agent in the stomach. The agent gasped in pain and fell to floor as Sam released his wrist. Sam picked up the gun and fired one shot, hitting the agent in the neck, just above the collar of the Kevlar vest. The agent spluttered and gasped for only a second longer before going limp on the floor, his eyes fluttering closed.

Sam turned on his heels, trying to push the aches and pains of his own body to the back of his mind. As he turned he avoided a bullet that had been meant to hit his head. He snapped his neck round, facing the shooter, and he raised his own gun before shooting, firing two rounds that both hit the shooter in the chest just beside his Kevlar uniform, just below his shoulder. The shooter stood as he stared down at the blood rapidly pouring from his wound before he fell to floor, twitching for a few seconds before going still.

Nearest to Sam was Bucky, who lay on the ground convulsing as electricity jolted through his veins as a HYDRA agent pressed down on the trigger of a stun gun, his finger never lifting off the trigger, and a second agent held him down. Sweat poured down Bucky's brow and his face was taut with agony as he fought a losing battle against the pain. Sam didn't hesitate to shoot, firing two bullets at the unsuspecting HYDRA agents. The bullets hit one of them in the neck and the other in the head, immediately killing them. They fell to the ground bonelessly, one falling just beside Bucky and the other on top of him. Bucky's body went lax as he struggled to maintain his hold on consciousness.

Sam ran over, blissfully unaware of the three remaining HYDRA agents nearing him as all his attention was focused on Bucky. Bucky still lay on the ground as Sam dropped to his knees beside him, his hand grabbing Bucky's chin and forcing him to look at Sam as his eyelids fluttered. "Bucky, we need to help Steve so get your ass up." Sam said as he pulled the prods out of Bucky's burnt and bleeding chest. He roughly pushed the dead HYDRA agent off of Bucky, his fingers becoming slick with the agent's blood.

Bucky grabbed at Sam's gun and Sam pulled away at first, still unsure of Bucky's intentions. He had thought Bucky had betrayed them and given away their position to HYDRA, but if he had then why had he saved heir lives afterward? He had said sorry, and Sam had assumed it had been an apology about the betrayal, but why had his eyes filled with unshed tears as he muttered the words? Sam had a feeling that Bucky did have something to be sorry for, but he had an indescribable feeling that Bucky truly was trying to help Steve and hadn't spoken to HYDRA. So, whatever it was he had to be sorry for, it wasn't about betraying Steve's trust. But, whatever it was, Sam could see that it was tearing Bucky up inside, and that worried Sam.

Sam eventually allowed Bucky to take the gun from his hands and watched uncertainly as Bucky's fingers uncoordinatedly fumbled with the trigger as the electricity still coursing through his veins wreaked havoc on his body. Bucky raised the gun with a trembling hand as he propped himself up on one shoulder and fired three bullets. Sam turned to look over his shoulder as the bullets whizzed past his ear, just in time to see the three HYDRA agents that had been silently approaching him fall to the floor, dead.

Sam smiled thankfully and helped Bucky to his feet. Bucky swayed at first, but he refused the support Sam offered him as he straightened up and took a deep, steadying breath. Dead HYDRA agents surrounded them, blood pooling beneath their corpses and soaking through their black uniforms. HYDRA agents that had been mutilated by the grenade lay in a heap on the ground, amongst the gunshot wound victims. A few feet away, Steve was still struggling with Rumlow. Rumlow was still kicking Steve, standing in the perfect position for Sam and Bucky to get a clear shot.

But, before Sam or Bucky could even release the safety on their guns, Steve's leg kicked out, sweeping Rumlow's feet out from underneath him. Rumlow landed on the floor, gasping as the air rushed out of his lungs. Steve managed to somehow get onto his knees and half fall, half jump on top of Rumlow, wrapping his hands around Rumlow's neck. Blood was dripping from new wounds and old wounds but Steve didn't seem to notice or care as his grip tightened on Rumlow's neck. Rumlow was gasping, but he managed to reach out and push his thumb into Steve's shoulder, pushing on the bullet wound.

Steve groaned in pain and his trembling worsened but he didn't let go. Rumlow dropped his hand and tried to pry the fingers off his neck. Steve kept holding him, kept tightening his grip, until Rumlow's knee lifted and connect solidly with Steve's stomach. Steve fell to the floor, wrapping his arms around his midsection and whimpering as Rumlow staggered to his feet. Rumlow dropped on top of Steve and delivered punch after punch to Steve's stomach and chest and face. Blood flew through the air, splattering across Rumlow's face, but he didn't seem to care.

Steve was losing the battle against unconsciousness and his eyes were fluttering closed as Rumlow continued his vicious attack on Steve. As he kneeled on top of Steve, he was in perfect view for a clear shot and Sam and Bucky both fired at the same time. One bullet hit Rumlow in the knee, shattering the bones, and the other hit him in the shoulder, the force knocking him off Steve and on to the floor.

Sam and Bucky ran over, Sam kneeling beside Steve and Bucky kneeling beside Rumlow. "Whatever agents are looking for us, tell them you found us and they need to go the house." Bucky ordered, his metal hand wrapping tightly around Rumlow's damaged knee. Rumlow bucked under his grip and squirmed to get free as he cried out in pain and tears streamed down his tears.

"The house is blown up. Other gents are there. They'll know I'm lying." Rumlow countered, trying to curl in on himself, but Bucky's hand around his neck kept him from doing so.

"So tell them you found something. Tell them to meet you at the house in five minutes. Tell them." Bucky ordered, twisting his hand around Rumlow's knee. Rumlow screamed and almost lost consciousness, but as Bucky did it again, his eyes shot open and he nodded sluggishly in understanding. "And, if you try anything, I will pull you apart limb by limb. You've seen me do it before." Bucky said, his glare threatening, intimidating, scary. Rumlow nodded nervously and clicked the comm in his ear with bloodied fingers.

Static sounded over the comm before clearing. Rumlow cleared his throat as he willed the tears of pain and defeat in his eyes to go away. "Rumlow reporting. I've found something of use. Meet me at post in five minutes, sharp." Rumlow said. His voice was slightly shaky, slightly weak and pained, but convincing enough. Static was heard again followed by a chorus of 'yes, sir's.

Bucky grabbed the comm from Rumlow's ear and smashed it under his boot before delivering a bone crushing blow to Rumlow's face, knocking him out cold. Even if he did wake up, the injuries he had sustained would prevent him from going anywhere soon. He would barely be able to sit up, never mind crawl or walk or run. Bucky stood up slowly, his body still shaking slightly as remnants of electricity travelled through his veins. He turned slowly, his eyes immediately landing on the bloodied mess in front of him that was Steve.

Steve was unrecognizable as blood oozed from his nose. His nose was swollen and blue and his eyes were bruised. A large gash above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely, creating a river down his temple and staining his blond hair crimson. His shoulder wound was bleeding again, worse than before and one glance at it confirmed that along with torn stitches, the previously cleanly cut wounds were now ragged and larger. His stomach was bleeding again, the stitches torn and the wound red and inflamed and bruising branched out across his entire stomach, reaching his sides and back. His chest was bruised black and blue, slightly misshapen on the left side and the rise and fall of his chest was uneven and unsteady.

Sam swallowed nervously as his wide eyes scanned Steve's body. Steve was conscious, but barely. His eyes were closed and he was curling in on himself, crying and whimpering and begging for the pain to stop. Sam slipped his hand into Steve's clenched one, not caring as Steve's grip tightened to the point of being painful. "Steve, we need to go. Can you get up?" Sam asked, his free hand grabbing Steve's chin and guiding his face to look at him as Steve's eyes fluttered slightly.

"Get him up. We need to go." Bucky said, glancing at Steve before he limped over to the dead HYDRA agents and picked up their guns, checking their chambers and nodding when he found them full enough to last.

Sam watched Bucky as his hand wrapped around Steve's, holding it tightly as the super soldier screamed hoarsely. He let his hand slip out of Steve's grasp and stood. He walked over to Bucky, his steps slow and calculating, his eyes boring a hole in Bucky's tense back. "You said you were sorry." Sam said, nearing Bucky. Bucky knelt beside a dead HYDRA agent, roughly removing his Kevlar vest. Sam saw his muscles tense slightly but he offered no other reply or explanation, so Sam pushed further.

"You said you were sorry. Why are you sorry?" Sam asked, and this time, Bucky stood and turned to face Sam. In his left hand he held a fully loaded machine gun, and in his right hand he held the Kevlar vest. His icy blue eyes met Sam's and he took a step closer. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but both men stood their ground, their glares unwavering and their statures tall and confident.

"I didn't tell HYDRA where to find Steve." Bucky said quietly, his gaze darting over to Steve before returning to Sam. On the floor, Steve was slowly, painfully, pushing himself up, his trembling arms and legs underneath him, struggling to hold up his body weight. Steve wheezed, his left arm buckling underneath him when his damaged shoulder couldn't bear the weight any longer. He fell to the floor with a pained cry.

"I didn't say you did." Sam said. He took a step closer, too, his nose almost touching Bucky's as they mimicked the fight that played out in front of the house only a few hours before. Neither man trusted the other, neither man believed the other had the best of intentions, and neither man was willing to back down. So, they stood, staring at each other and breathing heavily.

"But you thought it." Bucky said, sensing Sam's distrust.

Sam nodded slowly and replied, "Yes, I did." Bucky inhaled deeply as Sam nodded again. "If you didn't betray Steve, what do you have to be sorry for?" Sam asked, raising one eyebrow and curling his hands into fists as he saw the familiar glint of anger in Bucky's eyes. Bucky reached out, dropping the gun and Kevlar vest, and his hands held Sam's shoulders tightly as he pushed Sam against the wall. Sam stifled a gasp as the air was pushed out of his lungs, and he violently ripped Bucky's arms off of his body, pushing Bucky back and standing to his full height, daring Bucky to touch him one more time.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Bucky said, shaking his head and walking away. He bent down to pick up the Kevlar vest and gun again. Sam didn't follow, but his gaze never left Bucky. Bucky faced Sam again and stepped closer, once again getting so close that their noses almost touched.

"No, you don't. But Steve deserves an explanation." Sam replied. The words hit Bucky hard and he took a step back, his gaze darting back to Steve and lingering for a moment longer than usual before returning to face Sam. His body tensed and tears shone in his eyes again. He had spent two months building these tunnels and he had never told anyone about them. They were a secret, a secret meant to be kept from HYDRA. He had spent two months preparing for the day HYDRA decided to attack Steve again, waiting for the moment to show Steve that he was sorry. But, he had a flaw in his plan. A huge, almost unforgivable flaw.

"I didn't tell HYDRA." Bucky repeated, his shoulders sagging. Sam allowed his shoulders to sag, too, allowing the pain and fatigue to take over his body for just a minute. His stomach wound stung but one glance confirmed that the bullet had simply grazed him, and the graze had almost stopped bleeding.

"So, what did you do?" Sam asked. Their previously raised voices had softened to whispers, their stern and angered expressions crumbling and being replaced by sympathy for Steve, for themselves, and for each other, even though they would never admit it.

"This house. I didn't find it." Bucky said, allowing himself to lean against the wall and sag to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest, wincing as the bullet wound was stretched and sent a new dagger of pain down his leg. His arms wrapped around his knees, and despite the metal arm, he looked so innocent, so lost and confused, that Sam almost forgot he was the Winter Soldier. Almost, but not quite.

Sam walked over to Steve and helped Steve to his feet. After a lot of wincing and whimpering and desperate cries of agony, they were both standing, even if Steve was more hanging on Sam than standing. Sam slowly walked over to the wall, his leg hurting with each step, but he knew Steve's pain was worse, so he held back the winces and whimpers as he supported the super soldier to the wall beside Bucky. He slid down the wall slowly, holding Steve close to him as the movement caused the soldier to scream in pain and allow tears of agony to slide down his flushed cheeks. Steve needed a rest, and as much as they needed to get moving, get the hell out of that tunnel, Sam knew that a minute's rest would do all three of them a world of good.

Sam lowered Steve's head so it was resting in his lap and watched sympathetically, helplessly, as Steve suffered wordlessly on his lap. Steve's eyes were squeezed shut tightly, sweat was pouring down his face and into his hair. His face was deathly pale and the parts of his body that weren't covered in blood were marked with black and blue and red bruises. Sam wiped a single tear from Steve's cheek and gulped nervously when he felt immense heat radiating off Steve's skin. An infection was the last thing Steve's body needed, and probably the last thing it could handle, even with the serum.

Bucky's hand shot out, and to Sam's surprise, it grabbed Steve's hand and held it tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Steve's clammy skin. "You said you didn't find this house, what do you mean? I thought you said you built these tunnels." Sam said, his hand resting protectively on Steve's bruised chest, offering some support and comfort.

Bucky released his grip on Steve's hand and allowed his hand to fall to his lap as he stared at the growing pool of blood under Rumlow's shoulder. "I did." Bucky said. He had built the tunnels. It had taken him the better part of two months, but it had been necessary and it had proven useful.

"So what do you mean you didn't find the house? And I'd like an answer that's longer than two words. That would be preferable." Sam said, his gaze glancing from the passageways leading out of tunnel to the dead bodies that lay in front of it. They needed to get out. They needed to get up. But he was just so tired and sore and confused. Just a minute longer. That's all he needed.

"I didn't find the house. I knew it was here the whole time. I just came here two months ago because I knew it was here. I didn't just find it." Bucky explained, his hands rubbing over his face and pushing his sweaty, long hair behind his ears as he sighed. He should have found somewhere different. He shouldn't have used that house. If he had found somewhere different, HYDRA wouldn't have found him. He had been stupid and complacent.

"Okay... So?" Sam asked, growing more anxious as more seconds ticked by and their escape gap shortened. They needed to move. But, he needed to find out a few answers from Bucky first.

"It was an abandoned HYDRA safe house. I used it in a few missions. I knew it was here, so two months ago I came here." Bucky said, watching Steve tremble on Sam's lap. He could have got Steve out a long time ago, uninjured, but because of his complacency, Steve was suffering again. And it was all his fault, again.

"You brought us to an old HYDRA safe house? Are you stupid? You must be. So... You're saying sorry because you weren't smart enough to take us somewhere where Steve wouldn't get found?" Sam asked, unable to hide the tone of sarcasm and anger in his voice.

"Yes." Bucky replied, standing and kneeling beside Steve. He picked the Kevlar vest up and glanced at Sam, silently asking for his help. Sam understood and held Steve's upper body up as Bucky pulled on the Kevlar vest. Steve cried out and begged for Bucky to stop as the movement jostled his chest and shoulder and stomach, but Bucky didn't stop. "I'm sorry." He whispered as he tightened the vest.

_Sorry for being stupid. Sorry for hurting you again. Sorry I couldn't protect you._

Sam slowly stood up and Bucky held Steve's weight. They slowly pulled Steve to his feet again before picking up two machine guns. Sam looped Steve's arm over his shoulders and Bucky looped the other over his. Steve winced and tears fell down his cheeks again as his legs crumpled underneath him, but Bucky and Sam refused to let him go. They walked slowly towards the passageways leading out of that godforsaken tunnel, taking the left one. "Look me in the eyes, Bucky." Sam said.

Bucky looked at Sam, meeting his brown eyes with pained blue ones. "You want to help Steve." Sam stated more than asked, but he kept looking at Bucky, waiting for confirmation. Bucky nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. "You didn't tell HYDRA where to find us?" Sam asked. Bucky nodded again and Sam nodded along with him. Between them, Steve was struggling to stay upright, even with their support, but they kept walking. They were so close to getting out, so close to escaping, they couldn't stop.

"I can trust you?" Sam asked. Bucky glanced at Steve and was about to speak when Sam interrupted. "I know, you don't think you need my trust. But, if I wanted to, I could trust you? Steve can trust you?" Sam asked and Bucky looked back at him, his blue eyes narrowed in both confidence and concentration. Bucky nodded.

"No matter what happens, I can trust that you will get Steve out of here? And I can trust that you will get him away from HYDRA?" Sam asked. If he was to die, he wanted to make sure Bucky would get Steve out. He wanted to know that his death wouldn't be in vain. Bucky nodded more forcefully this time, his gaze darting to the ladder at the end of the passageway that led to a trap door. They had done it. They had found the exit and they were so close to a clean escape. So close.

"Why didn't you just tell me you didn't betray us when I asked you earlier on, before the gunfight. Why didn't you say so?" Sam asked as Bucky pulled Steve's arm off his shoulders. Steve was barely conscious, hardly lucid and he hadn't heard a single word of the conversation the two others had been having. But, Steve knew in his heart that Bucky hadn't betrayed him. Bucky was still the Winter Soldier, but James "Bucky" Barnes was starting to crawl through the cracks and he was becoming more and more obvious, slowly but surely overpowering the Winter Soldier. It would take time, but it would happen completely one day, and Steve intended on being around to see it.

Bucky didn't reply. He didn't want to tell Sam that he had felt so guilty that he hadn't even thought of denying the allegations. He didn't want to tell Sam that all he cared about was what Steve thought of him. And, he didn't want to tell Sam that he couldn't escape the guilt of hurting Steve, again.

He had come to this safe house because it was the only place he had known, the only place he had stashed weapons, the only place he had known was away from other civilians so if something were to happen, no one else would suffer because of him. It was the only place of familiarity, the only place of certainty. But, he should have known that HYDRA would have kept a record of it, even if they had stopped using it almost a decade and a half ago. He should have, but he didn't. He had been confused and upset and he hadn't been in the right frame of mind, and he had allowed that to affect his common sense. He shouldn't have, but he did. And he couldn't change that now.

"Bucky..." Sam said, hugging Steve to his body as the super soldier trembled and clung onto Sam like a lifeline. Bucky was already halfway up the ladder, but he turned to look at Sam. "I trust you." Sam said. It had taken a while, and Sam wasn't sure what had changed his mind, but he trusted Bucky. He might not have been particularly fond of Bucky, but he trusted Bucky. And part of the reasoning was that Bucky was willing to risk his own life to save Steve, and Sam had been witness to it. They had a common relation, Steve, and as long as they were both willing to help him, they could trust each other. But, tables can turn quickly and Sam didn't allow the thought of Bucky changing, becoming the Winter Soldier again, to leave his mind. But, for now, they had a mutual trust, and that might have been the only thing that could save Steve.

Bucky nodded appreciatively before turning back to the trapdoor. The lock had been shot off from the outside and the door had been left semi-open. Bucky pushed it open and smiled as the warmth of the sun reached him. Below him, Sam smiled as Steve squinted up. Steve was a mess of broken bones and blood and bruising, but in that moment that the sun touched his skin, he smiled. It looked like a grimace almost, but it was a smile.

They were out. They were free. They had made it.

But, things are never as easy as they seem. And Bucky and Sam and Steve learnt that the hard way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys. Sorry for the long wait, school's been really hectic lately, but here's the next chapter. Thanks for the support on my story so far. You guys are so great!**

**I'm so sorry about the long wait for the update. School has been so hectic and my school had this celebration thing for my grade and I've been out since Friday and only got back at seven this morning, so I haven't really had any time to write this next chapter! But here it is!**

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Bucky climbed the ladder first. He peeked out over the lip of the trapdoor and searched the empty space, holding his hand over his gun in case any HYDRA agents were around. But, no one was up there and a glance to the right confirmed that they had all followed Rumlow's orders and were surrounding the obliterated house. Helicopters hovered overhead, cars were parked in a circle around the house, and agents, who were only black dots on the horizon, were swarming around the house. "Clear." Bucky called down to Sam and Sam released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

He knew they had limited time to get out of that tunnel and get away from that house. It would only take a few minutes before the HYDRA agents realized something wasn't right when Rumlow didn't show up, and they would undoubtably begin searching the area again, looking for Steve and Sam and Bucky. They would definitely find Rumlow in the tunnel, bleeding out and unconscious on the floor, lying between a sea of dead HYDRA agents. So, they were close to safety, it was almost in their reach, but they weren't close enough, and Sam knew it. They had to go, they had to get out of there.

Sam's arms were wrapped securely around Steve's body, keeping the wounded and bleeding soldier on his feet. "Steve, you need to climb up that ladder. I know it hurts, but push. You can do this in your sleep, buddy." Sam said to Steve as he tried to draw the last of Steve's strength, hidden somewhere behind the fatigue and agony and semiconsciousness. Steve's arm was slung over Sam's shoulders and Steve was resting his head on Sam's shoulder as he gasped and wheezed for enough air to fill his damaged lungs. "Come on Steve, just a little further." Sam begged when Steve's eyes fluttered closed and Steve started swaying dangerously, even with Sam's vehement grip on his midsection.

Sam had been patient, he had been trying his hardest to get Steve through this alive, and his efforts had paid off. They were so close and he couldn't give up now. But that meant that time was of the essence, and every second spent trying to get Steve to keep moving was a second wasted, and as harsh as it was, Sam knew it. So, Sam had to get Steve to move faster, even if that meant he had to suffer a little bit more. He hated seeing Steve in pain, it tore him apart, but if he wanted to get Steve out of there, he needed Steve to move. If Steve didn't get out of there and Sam somehow did, he would never forgive himself. If they got captured and Steve had to suffer through even more, Sam wouldn't get over it, no matter how much time passed. So, he had to push Steve, push him to move, push him to carry on, push him to keep going, even if it hurt.

"Hurry!" Bucky called from outside, and Sam saw his head move from left to right as he surveyed their surroundings and held his gun at the ready, prepared to fight off any HYDRA agents. Bucky's voice was even and calm, comforting in the situation, but Sam detected the slightest, barely noticeable,ntrace of fear and panic in Bucky's voice, and that worried Sam more than he thought possible. Bucky was the Winter Soldier. Bucky was a killing machine... Or at least he had been, and hearing his worry just confirmed Sam's fears. They had limited time to escape, and their time was running out quick.

"Steve, move, now." Sam said, adopting a harsher but necessary tone. Sam's snap brought Steve out of his trance and he straightened ever so slightly and some of his weight was pulled off of Sam's shoulders. "Climb the ladder, quick." Sam said. Steve staggered towards the ladder, blood dripping from his multiple winds and onto the floor, his left arm hanging loosely by his side and his face twisted into a permanent grimace. With Sam's support, Steve manage to climb the ladder. Bucky wrapped his arms under Steve's shoulders and pulled him up. Steve cried out in pain and collapsed as he reached the top, his body lay sprawled on the mixture of sand and mud and grass as he panted and trembled with exertion. He was losing too much blood, and as he coughed, blood slipped from his lips. They needed to hurry the hell up.

Sam climbed the ladder in only a few seconds as he ignored the aches and pains of his own wounds, and his gaze rested in the house surrounded by HYDRA agents. "We need to hurry. Move." Bucky said as he stared into the distance, his back turned to the house. Sam turned to help Steve up and was surprised when he found Steve struggling to his knees and hands already, without help. Steve was trembling and gasping and swaying, but he was trying pretty damn hard, which was more than Sam could ask for. Sam looped a hand under Steve's arm and helped him up. Steve groaned as the movement aggravated his injuries, but he didn't hesitate before moving forward, stumbling alongside Sam, who kept his arm under Steve's arm.

They were out of the tunnel, they were out of HYDRA's way for now, but they weren't safe. Not yet, perhaps never. They had to get out of there, they had to get as far away from that house as possible, and moving by foot simply wasn't an option, but it was the only option they had. So, they began walking. Bucky walked in front, limping slightly as he held his gun at the ready. His hair was wet from sweat and it hung over his face, hiding whatever little emotion his facial expression gave away, his chest was exposed through the tear in his shirt, and it was red and bleeding slightly from where the stun gun and clung onto his skin. His leg was bleeding, but it was slow and it was of no immediate concern, as long as it wasn't bad enough to hinder his movements.

Steve held his arm over his stomach and swayed as he walked beside Sam. Blood oozed from the multiple wounds on his face and from his broken nose, blood poured from his shoulder and his stomach, staining the bandages red and smearing over his skin. His chest was bruised already, and badly misshapen, almost disgustingly so. Sam knew Steve had something more than just broken ribs, probably a broken sternum, and his left shoulder looked practically useless, severely damaged. He was limping too, something Sam hadn't noticed while Steve had been leaning on him, but now that Steve was walking mostly on his own, it was prominent and noticeable. But, Steve kept pushing, and apart from the occasional grunts of pain and whimpers, he stayed silent. Sam was dumbfounded that Steve could keep moving, and he found himself growing prouder and prouder of Steve.

Sam's stomach wound had stopped bleeding, mostly, as well as his arm wound, but his leg was still bleeding steadily and slowly. But, the adrenalin and panic clouded his pain and he barely noticed it as he hurried to keep up with Bucky's fast and determined strides."We need to get out of here, and not by foot. We need a car or something." Sam commented as he glanced back at the house. It had been at least ten minutes and he knew that sooner or later, HYDRA would catch up to them, but for now, they were still surrounding the house. The road a few feet away from them stretched for miles, disappearing over the horizon, and it was empty. Totally, completely void of any cars, of any means of escape.

"You don't think I know that?" Bucky snapped and Sam had to restrain himself from commenting back. Fighting would do nothing to help them get Steve out, so Sam bit his tongue and rolled his eyes silently instead. They kept walking for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes in reality, until Bucky turned back and looked past Steve and Sam at the house in the distance. His blue eyes widened in horror and Sam turned back quickly to look at what had worried Bucky so much. Sam cursed under his breath as he saw the cars roar to life and start driving away from the house as other agents piled into the helicopters. The HYDRA agents had figured out that something was wrong, and they were starting to search for Rumlow and Steve and Sam and Bucky. "Run!" Bucky ordered.

Steve and Sam and Bucky ran as fast as they could. Their breathing was harsh and loud in the silence, but soon the sound of helicopter rotors filled the air and Sam looked over his shoulder. The helicopters had started hovering. Sam's heart was pounding, his mind was racing and his breathing was ragged as he struggled to keep up with Bucky. HYDRA was coming and they were practically out in the open, practically begging to be spotted. They needed to get out. They needed to move, and fast.

Then, as if Sam's prayers were answered, a car appeared just over the horizon, driving towards them. Escape was so close, Sam could almost taste it. Bucky seemed to have had the same idea as Sam and he ran into the road, holding up his metal arm as he prepared to put the car to a stop forcefully. The car kept moving, but screeched to a stop a few feet away from Bucky, and the owner of the car opened her car door angrily. She was about to start screaming at Bucky, but her gaze fell on his metal arm and her jaw hung open as she stared at it in awe. Then, her gaze travelled to Sam who was bent over, gasping for air as he tried to catch his breath. Her gaze stopped on him for a moment and a glint of recognition shone in her brown eyes.

Her gaze slowly moved to Steve, where he stood on shaky legs, hunched over and panting, gasping desperately for air and whimpering quietly as his right arm wrapped around his torso. The driver gasped and she pushed her long, curly brown hair behind her ears and shook her head in disbelief. "No way." She muttered over and over again as a broad smile spread across her fair features, showing her white and perfectly aligned teeth. "Is that Captain America?" She squealed as she walked out from behind the door of her silver BMW. Sam didn't know how she had recognized Steve through the blood and bruising and sweat and pallor, but she did and it was a miracle.

"We need you to take us somewhere." Bucky said, taking advantage of the fact that she was very obviously a fan. The young woman's gaze returned to Bucky and she nodded slowly, still unsure of Bucky. Sam noticed her uncertainty and took a step forward, carefully returning his grasp on Steve's arm.

"Please, we need your help. Please." Sam begged. He wasn't usually the type to beg, but he would do anything to get Steve help and to get the hell out of there. In the distance, the SUVs were getting nearer, Sam could almost hear their tires screeching on the damaged tar of the road, but the SUVs were still too far away to spot the silver BMW stopped in the middle of the road. "Please." Sam repeated, just as Steve started coughing, blood spraying from his lips. Sam's panic was heightening as he watched Steve struggle to breathe before his knees collapsed beneath him. Sam lunged forward and caught Steve by his shoulders before Steve fell to the ground. Steve screamed raggedly as his eyes squeezed shut in pain. "Please!" Sam repeated, almost shouting as he struggled to maintain his grip on the trembling super soldier in his arms.

"Get in." The lady said, clearly shaken by seeing the one and only, the invincible and indestructible, Captain America collapse in front of her as he heaved and suffered in pain and shock. Bucky ran over and helped Sam get Steve to the car as the driver climbed back onto the driver seat, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at the empty road ahead of her. Bucky climbed into the back and pulled Steve onto the beige leather seats, smearing them with blood, and the woman cringed and sobbed as Steve cried out in pain. Once Steve was inside and his head was rested on Bucky's lap, Sam closed the door by Steve's feet and ran to the other side of the car.

He stared at Bucky for a moment, expecting Bucky to get up and sit in the front passenger seat instead, but Bucky didn't move. "I need to sit with Steve." Sam said, watching as Steve bit his lip and his right hand clung desperately onto Bucky's pants, squeezing them between his bloodied fingers. Bucky looked at Sam and mouthed the word, 'please'. Sam hesitated for a moment, realizing that Bucky was desperate to protect Steve just as much as Sam was, before clambering into the front passenger seat and turning to face Steve. Steve's breathing was harsh and uneven and Sam was trying to remain calm, but it was hard, especially when the SUVs appeared just above the horizon, making their way towards Steve and Sam and Bucky in the stranger's car.

"Turn around, quick." Sam said, and the lady pushed down on the accelerator ad turned sharply until the car was facing the opposite direction. "Drive, step on it." Sam said, and she did. She pushed down on the gas and kept pushing until the car was speeding faster than Sam had even thought it could go. He turned and watched Steve, wanting to be in the back comforting him instead of in the front watching helplessly. But, Bucky was doing a good job, much to Sam's surprise. Bucky's right arm was held protectively over Steve's side, holding him close to his body and offering some comfort to the wounded super soldier, while his other hand ran through Steve's hair. Bucky was whispering things in Steve's ear, and Sam caught a few words here and there. Stories, memories about their childhood.

Sam turned back around and faced the front and kept his eyes on the road. Bucky could do something for Steve that Sam couldn't, he could relate to Steve, relive old memories with him. Sam knew Steve, but he knew almost nothing of his past, but Bucky... well, Bucky was Steve's past. And as Bucky whispered soothingly in Steve's ear, Steve started to calm, eventually smiling whenever Bucky said something amusing or funny, nodding when he agreed with something Bucky said. That was something Sam couldn't have done, and he felt a pang of jealousy and uselessness as he watched the very man who had almost killed Steve only two months ago, keep Steve alive in the back of a stranger's car.

"What... What happened to him?" The lady asked shakily as she sped down the long stretch of otherwise deserted road. She was scared, Sam could tell. Her eyes were red and watery from tears, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing was fast and unsteady, and she was glancing from the road to Steve constantly. Sam felt terrible, the last thing he wanted was to involve an innocent civilian in his messed up world, much less a woman barely out of her teens and barely big enough to fit into adult clothing. It was their fault that she was scared and Sam hated that, but he needed to save Steve and if scaring her was part of the process of doing so, he would just have to get over it.

Sam didn't answer, nor did Bucky who was still calming a trembling Steve. How could they? What would they say? They couldn't tell her about HYDRA, they couldn't tell her about Rumlow, they sure as hell couldn't tell her that they had just killed fifty men in an underground tunnel built by the Winter Soldier himself. She couldn't know about any of that, and the longer she remained oblivious to the evils of the world, the better.

She turned to look at Steve for the hundredth time in the space of only five minutes and Sam did the same, looking over his shoulder. Blood was staining her seats and her flooring, and Steve's death grip on her seat was so tight that it was almost tearing the leather. But the driver didn't seem to notice or care. "He's bleeding everywhere." The lady sobbed as she turned back to the road ahead. Steve was paling more and more, and Sam knew that they needed help, but they couldn't go to a hospital. "I'm taking him to a hospital, right? I mean that's where you want me to take you... Right?"

"No." Came the reply from the back. For the first time in what felt like hours, Steve had spoken, and a broad smile spread across Sam's chapped lips. The lady kept driving along the straight road, and this time she almost swerved off the road as she turned to look at Steve. His blue eyes were open now, and they were looking at her pleadingly as unshed tears shone in them. "N-no... They... They'll find us." Steve gasped. He was curling in on himself and Sam reached back, grabbing Steve's right hand as it tightened on the seat. Steve's grip on Sam's hand tightened but Sam didn't care. Bucky wasn't whispering in Steve's ear anymore, but he still had his arm over him protectively. Steve looked small, so small and vulnerable and weak.

"You need a hospital." The lady replied after getting over the shock of hearing Captain America speak. She was still staring at Steve in disbelief and Sam had to guide her hands on the steering wheel so that they stayed on course. Behind them, the SUVs were nowhere to be seen, and Sam had a feeling they had returned to the second tunnel entrance, the one where they had escaped. They would probably search the tunnel, and once they found the dead HYDRA agents and the unconscious Rumlow, they would begin their search for Steve and Sam and Bucky. Hopefully, they would be long gone by the time that happened.

Steve somehow managed to draw enough strength to push himself to a sitting position as he grimaced in pain and pulled his hand out of Sam's grasp so he could use the front chair as leverage. The driver almost started crying in excitement when Steve's bloodied right hand reached out to grab her arm gently and Sam had to guide her hands on the wheel again. Steve was breathing heavily as he leaned closer, and his pants for breath were blowing the lady's hair off her neck slightly. She blushed as she looked back at the road and bit her lip nervously. "No hospitals. Please. Please." Steve begged breathlessly. Steve was in so much pain and Sam could do nothing to help him, and that was killing him.

This time, the lady nodded confidently and Steve collapsed back in relief. "Thank you. Thank you." Steve muttered, his voice pinched with agony. Bucky was looking over his shoulder at the road behind them, scanning for any SUVs. As Steve fell limply against him, Bucky locked gazes with Sam and for a moment they shared a brief second of unspoken agreement. They couldn't go to a hospital, but Steve needed help, hell, they all did. So, they needed to find someone to help them, someone who they knew and they could trust with Steve's life. And, they needed to get there fast. Before Steve bled out, before Steve succumbed to his injuries, and before HYDRA found them. Sam refused to put the driver in danger, but as long as they kept driving and didn't stop, he had a feeling that it would all be okay.

"Who do we go to?" Bucky asked, his voice returning to its cold and harsh tone. He was thinking of survival, and to think clearly, all emotions needed to be forgotten. Sam knew that, he had learnt it the hard way. Emotions cloud your thoughts and cloud your common sense, and they stop you from acting rationally and logically. Suddenly, Sam understood. He had always thought Bucky was harsh, he had always thought Bucky was emotionless, but now he understood. Bucky had been using the same tactic Sam had used in his Pararescue days. No emotion, no fear, no mistakes. And, although Bucky had allowed his emotions to slip for a moment, he had composed himself again.

No emotion, no fear, no mistakes.

Sam thought long and hard. His gaze drifted from Bucky to the tense and nervous driver then to Steve, who was fighting a losing battle and slipping into unconsciousness. It was painful just looking at Steve, painful just watching Steve suffer so much. Sam gulped back the emotions that threatened to spill as he looked away from Steve and stared at the sun setting just to his left. Had it been under different circumstances, the bright and warm reds and yellows and oranges that filled the sky would have been the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. But in that moment, at that time, it wasn't. Sam loved sunsets, they were peaceful and calm, but the red of the sunset at that moment just angered Sam.

He didn't understand why someone so great, so selfless, so innocent, had to go through so much. Steve didn't deserve the torture and suffering he was experiencing. Steve didn't deserve to be sitting in the back seat of a car, lying in his own blood and trembling with such ferocity that the trembles reverberated through Bucky. Steve deserved so much better. And Sam hated that the sunset was so beautiful on a day when something so horrible had happened. So, in that moment, in that time, the sunset was sickening.

Sam looked back at Bucky, searching for an answer. Who could they go to? He curled his hands into fists at his sides. He didn't understand how a day that had started out so normal, so relaxed, had turned into a desperate run for safety, a fight for life. He didn't understand how his world had turned upside down in the space of only a few hours. He was sitting in a car with a dying Captain America, a changed Bucky and an innocent and nervous driver. What had he done? What had he been thinking? Would the driver ever actually be safe again or would HYDRA find her, find out that she had helped them? Sam looked at the driver for a long time, watching as tears fell down her rosy cheeks, and he realized he didn't know her name. He realized that he could never repay her, no matter how hard he tried.

"Thank you." Sam whispered, but the driver heard and she took one hand off the wheel and gently squeezed Sam's fisted hand. It loosened slightly at her touch. She smiled and nodded before placing her hand back on the wheel and looking back at the road. Then, the answer suddenly came to Sam and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner, why he hadn't thought of her first. Sam turned and locked gazes with Bucky. "Natasha. We go to Natasha." Sam replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys. I'm so sorry for the long wait. It's taking much longer to update now that I have schoolwork to complete, but I'm trying, I Promise. **

**Anyway, thanks so much for the amazing reviews and fantastic support on my story! It means so much! Probably only two more chapters left!**

* * *

Steve was fading fast. His blood stained the leather seats of the car and his lucidity was slowly slipping away as the blood loss and pain wreaked havoc on his weakening body. Sam was sore and his heart was still racing, even as the adrenalin rush wore off and the HYDRA agents were nowhere in sight. But, he ignored the aches and pains of his own body as he turned in his seat and looked at Steve struggling weakly in Bucky's lap. It had been almost two hours since the lady had rescued them from HYDRA. Two hours of constant worrying and fear and anger.

The lady's name was Caitlin and she had been on her way to visit her parents for the weekend. She hadn't seen them for almost two months while she had been studying accountancy. For almost two hours she had been crying silently, her answers to Sam's questions were short and shaky, but as time wore on, she back calmer. Sam had to do something, he needed to make sure that HYDRA wouldn't find her. He believed they hadn't seen her helping them, but he didn't want to take a chance, because if they had, Caitlin wouldn't live to see her twenty-first birthday. Sam could handle to weight of killing people in combat, but he couldn't handle the guilt of being the reason that an innocent young lady had been killed before she even had the chance to live her life.

"Is he okay?" Caitlin whispered so softly that Sam barely heard her. He turned in his seat so he was facing her and he felt his heart skip a beat as he stared at the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. It was his fault that she was scared, it was his fault that she was in danger, and he hated himself for it. But, it was because of her that Steve was going to get the help he needed to survive, it was because of her that they had escaped HYDRA, and he was forever grateful.

Sam glanced back at Steve again and gulped nervously. He was trembling and bleeding and he was a mess of blood and bruises. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony and his jaw was clenched tightly against the pain, but he wasn't making a sound. Sam wasn't sure whether Steve could even hear what was going on around him in the car, he wasn't even sure that Steve knew where he was. Sam looked up at Bucky and Bucky met his gaze. Blue eyes met brown and worry and anxiety and fear was communicated in the split second that the gaze held. "He's... He's going to be okay." Sam replied to Sarah even as Bucky shook his head forlornly.

Steve was fading fast. Too fast. They needed to get to Natasha. "Is he going to live?" Caitlin asked. Sam watched her for a long time as he nodded slowly. She was going too slowly, she wasn't sure where she was going and she was too emotional. Sam needed to drive. He pushed back his emotions, dampened the fear that threatened to incapacitate him as Steve's life slowly oozed out of his body, and forced his hands to stop trembling. He took a calming breath and slowly, but surely, all the aches and pains he was feeling were forgotten completely.

No emotions, no fear, no mistakes.

"Stop." Sam said suddenly, watching Caitlin as she turned to look at him and frowned. "Please, stop." Caitlin seemed hesitant at first, but she slowly pulled to a stop at the side of the freeway. "Swap with me." Sam said, his words controlling but his voice soft with desperation. In the dark night sky it was hard to see Caitlin's reaction, but he heard her sigh in relief. He guessed it would be easier if he drove, for both of them.

Sam jumped out of the car and ran to the driver's side as Caitlin scrambled over the console and into the passenger seat. Sam hoped in the car and wasted no time before starting the engine and speeding down the road. He knew where he was going. He had never been there before, but he had spoken to Natasha about her new house, her new life. She had spent he last few months relaxing, no more missions and no more life-threatening situations. She had said she kind of enjoyed it, but she was trying to stay off the radar. No one other than Sam and Steve could know where she lived. If the wrong people found out, her safe haven would be ruined, and she wanted to keep it for just a while longer.

Sam smirked slightly as he thought of how she would react when she found Bucky standing outside her doorway.

* * *

"Listen to me, Caitlin. I want you to drive to your parents' house, take the back route, and I want you to take a taxi. Give me your address and I'll have your car back to you within a week." Sam said as he climbed out the car and watched Bucky struggle out the car with Steve's arm slung over his shoulders. Steve was deathly pale under the dim street lighting and his breathing was so ragged and so uneven that it was more like wheezing than anything else. The car was parked in the underground parking, hidden from view.

Caitlin stood in front of Sam, shivering in the cold night air and staring absentmindedly at Steve who was hanging almost limply on Bucky's shoulders, unable to stand on his own two feet. Steve met Caitlin's gaze and for a second he straightened up, almost unnoticeably so, grunting with the effort, and whispered, "Thank you." His voice was weak but sincere, and as he said it Caitlin reached out and hesitantly ran a hand down his left arm, nodding and smiling as he attempted to smile back.

"Caitlin, do not go out or call your friends for the rest of the weekend, okay? Stay at your parents for at least a weak, until I get the chance to survey our house and ensure it's safe." Sam said, gently turning her around so she was facing him. She nodded in understanding and, without warning, her arms looped around Sam, pulling him into a tight embrace. Sam stood rigidly at first, unsure of how to react, but he eventually relaxed and wrapped his own arms around her, squeezing her so she was held tightly against him. "Caitlin, thank you for your help. But, I need you to promise me that this stays a secret."

"I promise, I hope he's going to be okay." Caitlin whispered and Sam nodded in agreement as they walked to the sidewalk. A taxi sped around the corner and Sam helped Caitlin climb in with her bags before he closed the door behind her and sent her on her way. He was grateful that the street lights were too dim for the taxi driver to have been able to recognize any of them, the last thing they needed was for someone to know where they were. They needed to stay off the radar, they needed to stay out of sight, at least for a while.

Sam looped Steve's other arm over his own shoulders and carried most of his weight up the stairs leading into Natasha's apartment building. It was average, brick outer walls and cream painted wooden shutters. The average house for an average joe. The perfect cover for Natasha. Sam rang the doorbell consistently until Natasha answered. Her smooth voice carried out over the intercom and Sam smiled at the sense of familiarity and comfort that accompanied being in Natasha's presence. "Yeah?" Natasha asked.

"Natasha, it's Sam. Steve's here and I need your help." Sam said. He briefly considered mentioning Bucky, but he couldn't afford for her to make a scene out in the open where anyone could see. He would rather sneak Bucky upstairs and deal with her in the passageway where no one would be able to see them. He knew Natasha wouldn't react rationally when she saw Bucky. She had hated him just as much as Sam had, and they had often spoken about the revenge they would love to exact on him if they ever met him again. Se had spoken about how she would shoot him and break him like he had broken Steve, and Sam had agreed enthusiastically. Twenty-four hours ago, he still would have agreed, but things had changed.

"Okay. Come on up." Natasha said, buzzing the gate open. Sam knew she would be waiting outside her door instead of inside where intruders or imposters could surprise her easily. So, he wasn't surprised when he struggled up the last flight of stairs and found her leaning against the wall nonchalantly. She was wearing skinny jeans and converse sneakers with a hoodie and her red hair was hanging loosely around her tan face. She smiled as she saw Sam, but her smile quickly faded as she scanned over Steve and finally, her gaze settled on Bucky.

"Natasha, wait! Let me explain." Sam begged as he saw her push away from the wall and stare at Bucky incredulously. He was doing a lot of begging and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Give me a minute to explain." Sam repeated as he glanced nervously at Steve, whose head was hanging on Sam's shoulder and whose blood was staining Sam's clothes. He was barely aware that they were with Natasha, he didn't even open his eyes when he heard her voice. Sam needed to get inside and help Steve, he didn't have time for Natasha to take out her angers on Bucky. Not at that current moment in time, anyway.

But, his words were ignored as Natasha rushed forward, her red hair flowing behind her as she pounced on Bucky. Steve's weight doubled on Sam's shoulders as Bucky fell backwards and Steve's arm fell from his shoulders. Sam grunted with the effort of keeping Steve up as he tried to follow Natasha and Bucky as they moved around the small foyer area outside Natasha's apartment. Steve pushed away from Sam and leaned against the wall, he was hunched over and wheezing and bleeding and his face was contorted in an agonized grimace. Sam rushed forward to hold Steve up again, but Steve shook his head and held a quivering hand up. "No, go help." Steve whispered weakly, and Sam understood.

Sam gave Steve one more worried glance before he turned on his heels and faced Natasha and Bucky. "What the hell are you doing here?" Natasha yelled in Bucky's face as she slammed him against the wall so hard that small fragments of dry wall snowed down into her red hair. Bucky grabbed her left arm and twisted it so her hold on his neck was released. She grunted in pain and tried to pull away, but Bucky pushed her forward and pinned her against the wall so her arm was being held tightly against her back and her chest and stomach were being pushed into the wall.

She struggled momentarily with no result, but eventually she kicked out and managed to sweep Bucky off his feet. He landed with a hard thud on the floor and Natasha grasped the opportunity to jump on him, her knee digging into the bullet wound in his thigh. He grimaced in pain and writhed momentarily but showed no other sign of further struggle against her. "Why the hell are you outside my house?" Natasha yelled, delivering a bone-crushing blow to Bucky's face.

"I'm here to help!" Bucky replied, using his legs to push her off of him. She flew through the air and added a few feet away from him with a thud and a pained groan. But, she was back on her feet almost instantly, so was Bucky. They sized each other up for a moment and Sam took the opportunity to tackle Natasha to the ground. He did it carefully, cautious not to hurt her, but hard enough to shock her. He held her against the ground by her wrists as she struggled from his grasp. "Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?" She yelled.

Her face was red with anger and her usually perfect red hair was messy and frizzy and unruly as she fought half-heartedly against Sam. "I brought him here!" Sam yelled, quickly glancing up so he could give Bucky a warning look to stay back. Bucky nodded and took a step back reluctantly as Sam tightened his grip on Natasha's wrists. "Bucky is with me." Sam repeated, trying to get Natasha to calm down. But, she just wouldn't. She kept struggling and fighting against him until she managed to push him off her and hold him in a neck lock.

"Sam, you better be messing around." Natasha warned him as she tightened her grip around his neck. Sam stopped fighting and went limp as he stared into her eyes. Her green eyes met his and for a second he thought she was going to let him go. Instead, she tightened her grip further and Sam gasped as he curled his right hand around her leg to try loosen the strangling grip on his neck. "I swear to god, Sam, if you're not joking..." she warned, her voice cold and dangerous as she stared at Bucky.

"Natasha, Bucky saved our lives." Sam choked, struggling to get any oxygen into his lungs. Natasha's grip loosened slightly and Sam inhaled deeply as oxygen rushed into his lungs. He coughed and his eyes watered slightly as he felt the blood that had rushed to his head slowly draining out. Slightly to his side, Bucky was standing uncertainly, ready to pounce on Natasha but purposely holding himself back. Sam found himself wondering why neighbors hadn't come rushing in, asking about the noise. The continuous thuds and hits and yelling must have travelled through the walls and floor and ceiling, but, apparently, the neighbors didn't care.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked, releasing Sam altogether and he scrambled away and rose unsteadily to his feet. Natasha stood, too, staring at Sam with a look of mistrust and betrayal on her face. Sam swallowed thickly, trying to keep his voice calm as he watched her gaze switch to Bucky. Before he even had time to answer her question or react to her movement, she was back on top of Bucky. They were rolling around on the floor as Natasha held his neck between her hands and stared into his blue eyes. But, Bucky wasn't fighting back. Not that Natasha seemed to notice. "You son of a bitch! You almost killed Steve!" Natasha yelled, and Sam was sure he could see tears shining in her green eyes.

It had been hard, watching Steve drift in and out of unconsciousness for days and days on end, watching him writhe and struggle in agony on the hospital bed. But, worst of all, it was difficult seeing him withdraw from the people around him. It had certainly affected Sam, and even if she wouldn't admit it, Sam knew it had affected Natasha, too. And, he couldn't blame her for wanting to kill Bucky on the spot, he had almost done that, too. But they didn't have time for her to get her revenge. Not yet.

"You almost killed him!" Natasha repeated as she slammed his head into the ground. Bucky reacted immediately, pushing against her chest with such force that she was sent sprawling across the wooden flooring. She stood up quickly and sized Bucky up as they stood opposite each other. Their muscles were tense, Natasha's in hatred and anger, Bucky's in self defense. "Enough! We don't have time for this." Sam screamed, but his words went unheard as Natasha launched herself at Bucky, effectively knocking him into the wall with a kick to the stomach. But, he grabbed her leg and twisted it so she fell on the floor with her back facing him.

"Enough!" The voice was loud and authoritative, but it was hoarse and pained, and it took Sam a second to realize who had spoken. Natasha and Bucky stopped struggling and Natasha pushed herself to her feet as she looked at Steve. No one moved as Steve pushed himself away from the wall and stared at Natasha and Bucky pleadingly. He was swaying and hunched over, his right arm held protectively over his damaged midsection, but he was staying upright without support. "Natasha, we'll explain inside, but we don't have time right now. We need your help. Now."

Natasha hesitated for a second before she glanced back at Bucky one more time. She bit her lip before nodding and pushing past Bucky and Sam to get to her door. She pushed it open and stood inside as Sam and Bucky each took one of Steve's arms and helped him in through the door. Steve 's breathing was becoming strained and ragged and Sam knew he needed help, he just hoped Natasha could offer enough help. The inside of Natasha's house was clean and ordered, with cream paint on the walls and cream colored furnishings. It was neat and modern, but suited only with the bare minimum. If Natasha had to get up and leave suddenly, there would be nothing she was leaving behind that would give anything about her away. No photos, no distinct style, no unnecessary ornaments. Plain, simple, and convenient.

Sam and Bucky lowered Steve down onto the couch, desperately trying to ignore his pained cry and the sudden tenseness of his muscles. Blood poured onto the cream leather, but Natasha didn't seem to care as she disappeared down the passageway and into one of the rooms. She returned a few seconds later with a large black box in her hands. She knelt beside Steve and lowered the box to the ground, glancing at Sam and gesturing for he and Bucky to sit on the other couch. She needed space if she was going to help Steve. In the box was bandaging, sutures, disinfectant, painkillers, forceps, scalpels, and medical tools Sam had never even seen before.

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked.

Natasha looked up at Sam and sighed sadly before shrugging. "I have my ways."

Natasha tossed aside the painkillers and Sam realized that Steve was going to have to go through the hell of being stitched up and disinfected without any relief. The thought chilled him to the bone and he stood up quickly. He walked backwards until his back hit the glass panes of the window as he stared at the contents of the box. He wasn't sure he could sit by and watch Steve suffer, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it, he wasn't sure he would be strong enough to handle it. "Close the blinds." Natasha ordered Sam. He nodded dutifully and, with trembling hands, closed the wooden blinds so no one could see inside. His quivering hand pushed down on the light switch and the room was bathed in a yellow glow.

"Hold him down." Natasha said to no one in particular. Bucky stood up quickly and placed his hands on Steve's shoulders as Sam placed his on Steve's legs. Natasha looked at Sam and then at Bucky before looking back down at Steve. She sighed as her eyes scanned over his swollen and bloodied face, his destroyed shoulder, his bruised chest and his mutilated stomach. Then, she looked back up at Sam with unhidden tears in her eyes. Sam felt his heart sink. It was going to be a lot worse than he thought. "Never let go of him. Hold him down. And don't let me stop, even if he begs me to. Which he will." Natasha said softly, and Sam only nodded.

* * *

It had been torturous hours upon hours of holding Steve down as Natasha quickly and professionally cleaned out his shoulder wound. Steve had writhed under their touch, but he remained silent, holding his screams back as the pain threatened to pull him into the depths of unconsciousness where pain was nonexistent. But, they had done it, and when Natasha had bandaged him up, she visibly signed in relief as though the first stretch in a long, hard journey had been completed.

She had announced that there was nothing she could do about his shattered shoulder or his broken ribs other than wrap them in hopes of securing them and bandaging Steve's shoulder as tightly as possible. His broken nose had to heal completely on its own. Then, Natasha cleaned dried and fresh blood away from Steve's bruised skin. She had gasped as she saw the vivid bruising that covered almost every inch of Steve's broken body, Sam couldn't stifle his own gasp either, but she had composed herself quickly and set to work immediately.

She had started with his stomach, and that's when things had really got hard. She plunged the forceps into Steve's stomach and pulled the few remaining bullet fragments out professionally, and Steve bucked and writhed under Sam and Bucky's grips. But, he could no longer stay silent, and the agonized scream that sliced through the air sent chills down Sam's spine and he had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill. The next few hours were spent holding Steve down as Natasha cleaned and sutured the rest of Steve's wounds, until, eventually, Steve lost consciousness. Natasha had hooked Steve up to an IV with trembling fingers.

And then, Natasha had disappeared into one of the rooms. Forty-five minutes later, Natasha still hadn't come out and Sam was sitting on the couch adjacent to Steve, watching as Steve's bandaged chest rose and fell unevenly. Bucky was by the window, staring through the blinds at the road underneath and at the full moon overhead. Neither had said a word, both too shell shocked to form coherent sentences. Eventually, Natasha walked out of the room. Her hair was wet and her clothes were fresh. Any traces of Steve's blood on her had disappeared, but Sam and Bucky still had his dried blood on their hands and clothes and arms. Sam barely noticed it.

"Let me look at those." Natasha said, gesturing to the wound on Sam's arm and leg and stomach. He looked down, almost shocked to see the wounds. He had forgotten about them, and with the reminder came a wave of pain. He suddenly felt lightheaded and nauseated and he fell back against the couch as he squeezed he eyes shut against the pain and nausea. He felt Natasha sit beside him and he opened his eyes when her hand rested on his thigh. "Let me help." she whispered. She was glancing at Steve every few seconds and Sam could read the worry in her eyes, but she was putting up a brave front, and he respected her for that.

She inserted an IV in Sam's arm and he soon felt the pain dissipating, not entirely, but enough for him to relax. He winced as Natasha started cleaning the wound to his leg, but he never looked away from her face. "What happened?" She asked suddenly, and Sam knew it was a question that had been inevitable, no matter how delayed. He wondered where to start. She was clearly still angered by Bucky's presence, but she was keeping her emotions in check, more for Steve's sake than her own, just as Sam had tried to do in the beginning.

"HYDRA took us. They shot Steve and knocked us out, when I woke up we were in the back of a van. That's when Bucky came." Sam began, quickly glancing at Bucky who still stood by the window, unmoving. He yelped as he felt a needle pierce his skin. Natasha was suturing the wound. She stopped suddenly and looked up at Sam, her eyes watery as she tried to hold back tears. Sam knew he had betrayed Natasha's trust by bringing Bucky to her house, but if she would let him explain, he hoped it would justify his actions. "He saved us and took us to his hideout. But, HYDRA found us. Steve got hurt. We escaped... Now, here we are."

Sam conveniently left out a lot of the details, unsure as to whether they were necessary or not, and unsure of what Natasha's reaction would be. She stared at him for a moment longer but didn't say a word, and Sam could practically see the gears in her head turning as she processed the information. "HYDRA is still after you." Natasha stated more than asked. She had been through it all before. She wasn't ignorant as to how HYDRA worked and she wasn't ignorant as to how dangerous they were. She knew they were after Sam and Steve and Bucky still, and Sam knew that she knew that she had been dragged into the situation unwillingly. He just hoped she didn't mind, he hoped that her affection and love for Steve would make it worth it. Sam nodded.

"Did they follow you?" Natasha asked. Sam thought back to the rushed escape. He remembered climbing into the car, he remembered seeing the HYDRA agents pile into their own cars in the distance, but he also remembered that they had managed to escape unspotted. HYDRA hadn't been able to get to them in time before Caitlin had driven away, speeding down the desolate road. They hadn't been followed, he knew it... He thought he knew it. But, with HYDRA, you can never be too sure, so Sam didn't give an answer, and he knew Natasha understood. She had been in the situation before. Just because they didn't follow you didn't mean they wouldn't find you eventually. And he knew it. She knew it. Bucky knew it. Steve knew it.

"The Winter Soldier. Did he save Steve's life?" Natasha asked, briefly glancing at Bucky before getting back to work on Sam's leg. Sam winced as she continued suturing the wound, but the painkillers were working well and it wasn't as painful as it would have been without them. He could see the mistrust in Natasha's eyes, but he also saw that she understood. She understood that things were not as they had been two months ago. Things had changed.

"Yes, and mine. He remembered." Sam whispered. Natasha taped gauze over Sam's leg before looking up at him. She frowned slightly in confusion and Sam continued, "He remembered who Steve is. He remembered what they once had."

Natasha nodded before standing up and fetching more gauze. She changed the subject quickly, but Sam understood why. He knew that she had felt such hatred for Bucky before that it was almost impossible to trust him now, but she would have to and she was struggling with that. Sam had struggled, too. He also knew that she was slightly overwhelmed. HYDRA was still after Steve and as long as Sam and Natasha protected Steve, they were just another obstacle in HYDRA's way, and they had to be careful, all the time. "Steve lost a lot of blood. He's in a lot of pain, but he'll make it." Natasha stated suddenly.

Sam nodded in response, but he needed to tell her one more thing before she could change the subject. "Rumlow is still alive, and he's back with HYDRA." Natasha stopped walking and turned to face Sam, her expression taut with both anger and surprise. Sam stood quickly, nodding as he saw Natasha shake her head in disbelief. If Rumlow was still alive, it meant that HYDRA had another advantage. Rumlow had intel on Steve and Natasha that no one else had, and HYDRA could use that very easily against them.

"How?" Natasha asked quietly. Her voice was soft and uncertain but it had a hint of anger behind it.

"I don't know." Sam whispered. "I don't know."

* * *

Somehow, Sam had managed to fall asleep on the couch adjacent to Steve's. Steve still hadn't woken up and Natasha had gone to bed after a lot of convincing from Sam. Bucky hadn't moved from the window, and he had blatantly refused to get his own wounds checked. Natasha hadn't put up much of a fight and she willingly packed the medical supplies back in the box. It had only been a few hours since Sam had fallen asleep because when he woke up, it was still dark outside with only a few hints of purple across the night sky indicating sunrise.

Sam frowned as he realized that it had been a noise that had woken him up. He jumped up quickly, stifling a groan as pain lanced down his battered body. Then, he realized what had woken him up and he jumped to his feet quickly, forgetting his own injuries as he ran over to the door. It was wide open and, for a second, Sam thought HYDRA had found them and that they were trapped. But, as he stepped outside the door, he realized he was wrong.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked as he recognized the figure limping down the stairs. Bucky turned and faced Sam but made no move to come nearer or further away. Sam walked closer until he was at the top of the stairs and he was staring down at Bucky, who was a few stairs below him. For a long time, there was silence. Neither man spoke as they stared at each other. "Where are you going?" Sam repeated, daring Bucky to tell him what Sam dreaded hearing.

"I need to go." Bucky replied quietly. Sam bowed his head in disappointment. He knew what Bucky meant, but he asked anyway.

"Go where?"

"I can't stay." Bucky replied. Sam nodded slowly. He had had a feeling that it would end like this, with Bucky leaving and Steve heartbroken, again. He had hoped and prayed that it wouldn't happen, that this time, Bucky was there to stay, but he had been hoping for the impossible. He guessed he understood. He could see by the tears in Bucky's eyes and the pained expression on his face that he didn't want to leave, that he didn't want to do it, but he had to. Sam wasn't sure why, but he knew Bucky had to leave. "I need to leave."

"Steve needs you." Sam responded, silently hoping that those three words would be all Bucky needed to change his mind and stay. If Steve woke up again and found out that Bucky had left, it would tear him apart. Sam wasn't sure Steve would be able to handle the disappointment again, and he wasn't sure he could sit by and watch Steve struggle to understand, again. Bucky looked at his feet, unable to hold Sam's gaze any longer. Sam knew Bucky was ashamed and saddened, but he also knew that Bucky wouldn't change his mind. But he argued anyway. "You can't leave. Steve needs you. If you leave-"

"I have no choice." Bucky interrupted, his voice rising in anger and determination and hurt. "I am a fugitive of HYDRA. I am on the run. If I stay around Steve, he will only be in danger."

"Steve is wanted by HYDRA, too." Sam screamed, pointing towards the door emphatically. "He is on the run, too." Sam knew it wasn't the same. Bucky had betrayed HYDRA, and for that he would face severe consequences. And, Steve had the entire world behind him, Fury and Natasha and Clint and the rest of the Avengers, Bucky had no one. Even so, Sam had a feeling that Bucky was hiding something, so he took a step closer and forced himself to calm down. He waited for a moment, allowing his erratic heartbeat to slow down and for his breathing to even out before he said, "Why are you really running. Don't give me some bullshit story. I want the truth. Steve deserves the truth."

Bucky opened his mouth then closed it again, then opened it, then closed it. He shook his head and leaned back so his back was against the wall before he slid down it. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head again. Sam lowered himself to the floor so he sat beside Bucky, groaning with the effort and against the pain. He waited silently, allowing Bucky the time to compose himself. Then, Bucky looked up and his remorseful gaze met Sam's. "It's too much." Those three words were all the explanation Bucky offered before he buried his face in his hands again.

"What is?" Sam asked. But he knew the answer. And he sympathized with Bucky.

"It's too much. I didn't even know who I was two months ago. I can't hang around, it doesn't feel right. I need to be on the move. I need to find out who I was before I hang around." Bucky explained and Sam stared at the back of his head as he nodded. He understood. He realized that Bucky hardly knew who he was, and that forcing him to stay in one place was taking what little control he did have away from him. He also understood that Bucky needed to discover himself before he settled down, Bucky needed to know himself before he could relax. It was a feeling Sam understood and even knew. Being on the move was the only way for Bucky to have control of his life, to discover himself, and to stay away from HYDRA.

"But, Steve needs you." Sam argued half-heartedly. He knew nothing he said would change Bucky's mind, but he needed to try anyway. He shifted on the stair so he was facing Bucky, and rapped his knuckles against the beige drywall.

"I know, and I will always watch over Steve. But I can't stay. It's better for Steve and for me and for you if I leave." Bucky said and Sam gulped slowly. "I will always make sure Steve is okay. Maybe one day I will come back to stay, but not right now."

With that, Bucky stood up and, with one last lingering look at the door to Natasha's apartment, Bucky set off down the stairs. Sam hauled himself to his feet and watched as Bucky slowly limped down the stairs. He knew that when Steve woke up and found out Bucky wasn't there, it would tear him apart, but he also knew it was tearing Bucky apart. It was a sacrifice Bucky and Steve were going or have to make whether they liked it or not. And Sam had a feeling that Steve had expected it all along, too. Bucky was justified in his actions, and Steve would accept it eventually.

Bucky stopped walking and looked up so he was looking at Sam. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he swallowed loudly and asked, "Do you think Steve will understand?" His unruly brown hair hid his face from view, but Sam could tell Bucky was holding back tears by the way his voice trembled slightly. Sam nodded slowly, smiling sadly.

"Steve will understand."

Then, Sam watched as Bucky walked down the rest of the wooden stairs and disappeared from sight. Sam would be there for Steve, just as Bucky had once been there for Steve.

* * *

**Hi again, guys. In the next chapter, probably the last chapter, Steve will get proper medical attention, so don't worry. And I will explain things further. And, we'll see more of Natasha and her reaction. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys. So, this story, I feel, has reached its ending. I want to be able to start fresh, add some more Steve whump, and this time, include the other Avengers. I'm going to leave it with an ending that makes a sequel a possibility, but not a necessity.**

**I enjoyed writing this story, especially because of the fantastic, encouraging reviews from a few devoted readers! To those of you who took the time to tell me your thoughts, I would like to say a huge, soppy, sincere thank you. Your reviews really do make my day.**

**To those of you who followed/favorited, thank you very much! It meant a lot to me. Here goes the last chapter... I hope you enjoy it. It might turn out to be a long one.**

* * *

Sam had somehow managed to drift back to sleep again. He had planned on staying up so that when Steve did finally regain consciousness, Sam could be there to comfort him and to explain to him why Bucky wasn't there. But, as he sat and watched Steve's bandaged chest rise and fall, his eyes had drooped, and before he knew it, the sun was shining through the blinds and giving the room a warm atmosphere, something it had lacked the night before.

Sam stretched out his stiff legs and arms and winced as he felt the movement pull on his recently stitched wounds. He was in his boxers and a shirt, and he figured he should have been embarrassed to be wearing practically his underwear in front of Natasha, but he found that he couldn't care less. He looked at the gauze on his thigh and slowly lifted up the corner. The wound was stitched neatly and professionally and it showed absolutely no signs of infection. It could have been done by an actual doctor, and Sam found himself wondering briefly how Natasha had learnt to do it so well.

He rubbed sleep from his stinging eyes and yawned as he painfully pushed himself up to a sitting position. It took him a second to take in his surroundings as he scanned the plain, neat room. His gaze moved along the oak wooden flooring and eventually landed on the couch adjacent to his own. The one Steve had been lying on for most of the night. It was stained with blood and there was still the slight impression where Steve's body had been, but Steve was nowhere in sight.

Sam jumped to his feet and quickly pulled on his bloodied and dirtied pants before hopping around as he pulled on his shoes. "Natasha? Steve?" he yelled as he raced down the passageway and pushed open all the doors. Every room was empty. Natasha's bed was still unmade and the shower glass was still wet with water droplets. Sam was breathing so heavily and his heart was pounding so fast, that he felt as though his chest might have exploded. "Steve, Natasha, where the hell are you guys?" he yelled again.

No reply.

His first thought was that somehow HYDRA had managed to sneak in while he was asleep and take Sam and Natasha away. But, as seconds turned into minutes, the situation became less and less likely. He knew he would have woken up because there was no way Steve and Natasha would have been taken without a fight. Their screams and struggles would have woken him from his sleep. And, one check of the apartment proved that there was no evidence of foul play, so wherever Natasha and Steve and gone, they had gone willingly.

Then, the front door opened and Natasha stepped inside quietly. She glanced at the couch where Sam had been lying then searched the room until she found him, standing tensely just outside her bedroom door. "We need to move, now." Natasha said as she walked inside and closed the door behind her. Sam's heart slowed down to a more or less reasonable speed and his breathing settled as he scanned her body and realized that she was uninjured. She was walking towards him and Sam started walking towards her, but as she neared him, she pushed him so his back was against the wall.

"You brought the Winter Soldier to my house, Sam. My _house_! I trusted you when I told you about this place. And you ended up bringing the one person I want to kill to my house and you expected me to be okay with it?" Natasha screamed as she slammed Sam against the wall so hard that his head bounced off it. But, he made no attempt to shrug her off and he allowed her to bunch his collar in her hands and slam him against the wall again, even if it sent pain spiraling down his back. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam paused for a moment. Everything seemed to be a jumbled up mess, and he couldn't exactly place things in chronological order. He remembered Bucky and Natasha fighting, and he remembered Bucky leaving, but he didn't remember much else. Except for Steve's screams. Steve's screams echoed in his head, they had been since he had first woken up. He knew he would never get rid of them, that they would haunt his dreams for years to come. "He saved our lives, Natasha!" Sam yelled back.

It was because of Bucky that he and Steve weren't strapped to tables in a HYDRA facility somewhere, waiting to be experimented in or tortured or killed. Bucky had saved their lives. The Winter Soldier no longer existed, James Buchanan Barnes had taken his place. Sam had brought Bucky to Natasha's apartment, not the Winter Soldier. She needed to understand that. "And he almost _killed_ Steve two months ago. How could you trust him?" Natasha yelled back. Her breath was hot and it fanned over Sam's face.

"I trusted him because he was willing to die to save Steve's life. Natasha, I know you're mad, but you have to see it from my point of view. Okay?" Sam pleaded. His voice was weak and hoarse, and he realized that he too was battered and bruised and famished and parched. His words seemed to hit home, and Natasha released her death grip on Sam's shirt and took a step back. Her gaze never left his, and for a long moment, they did nothing but stare at each other in the silence. "I know you don't trust him, I know you hate him. I did, too. But Natasha, he's changed. He saved our lives." Sam repeated, hoping that his desperation for her to understand was evident in is voice.

Natasha said nothing in response, she just nodded. Then, she turned around and started walking towards the door. She was wearing tight black jeans with high heel black boots and a black leather jacket zipped up to the top. Her red hair was sleek and perfect. She no longer looked like the shell shocked woman she had looked like the night before. She looked professional and calm and in control. Natasha Romanoff was back. "We need to go, now." Natasha repeated. Sam's head was pounding but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Steve needed his help.

Sam followed her out the door and ran up to her until he caught up. He kept her pace as they walked down the stairs. "Where are we going?" Sam asked, moving to the side as a woman walked up the stairs. Her gaze lingered on his bloodied clothing for a second before she frowned and looked away. No one greeted each other, no one said a word. Natasha didn't answer at first as she kept her gaze firmly planted in front of her. "Where's Steve?" Sam asked.

"He's in my car. We're taking him to get real help, professional help." Natasha answered as she walked out the front door of the building and turned right. Sam followed her into the underground parking and they passed the BMW that had been his escape vehicle. He made a mental note to go to Caitlin's apartment and check it out before the end of the week. He needed to make sure HYDRA didn't find her, he needed to make sure she was safe. He followed Natasha to the very corner of the car park and towards a lonely Mercedes parked in the very last parking space.

It was black with almost black tinted windows. Natasha opened the front door and climbed into the driver's seat with ease. Sam lowered himself down into the passenger seat with less grace, and a lot more groaning. The minute the door was closed, Natasha started the engine and reversed. Her driving was skillful and perfect and she managed to do a complete spin of the car without so much as breaking a sweat. She sped out the underground parking and turned left, blending in to the already present flow of early morning traffic.

Sam turned around and his eyes widened in shock as he saw Steve. Steve was sitting upright with his left arm hanging loosely by his side and his right hand clenching the handle of the door so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He was sweating and pale and the bandaging around his stomach and shoulder was dotted with blood. The bruising that covered almost every inch of his body was black and was a stark contrast to his almost ghostly white skin. His face was pinched with pain and his eyes were squeezed shut tightly as he leaned his head back and breathed through tightly clenched teeth. He was in pain, but he was conscious, which was more than he had been the night before.

"What do you mean, we're taking him to get proper help? Natasha, he can't go to a hospital, HYDRA will find him." Sam said as he turned in his seat and faced Natasha again. Her gaze was stuck on the road in front of her and she didn't even flinch when Sam spoke to her. She changed lanes quickly and easily and took a sharp right, almost going through a red light. Sam slammed into the door at the unexpected swerve and he groaned. So did Steve. "Your work will hold up. It looked professional enough to me." Sam wasn't sure whether he even entirely believed that himself, but he tried to justify his point, even though he knew his words were falling upon deaf ears.

"Listen, Sam. Steve needs help and you know it. My work is good, but it's not good enough." Natasha argued without even looking away from the road. Her grip on the steering wheel was loose and confident and her facial expression was blank as she drove. Sam listened to her intently and he turned away from her as he realized she was right. Steve needed help, and no matter how good she was at patching people up, she wasn't a doctor. Steve needed a doctor. But they still couldn't go to a hospital where HYDRA could find them. Steve was vulnerable at a hospital and anyone could get to him if they were sneaky enough. "And, besides, we aren't going to a hospital." Natasha added with a nonchalant wave of the hand.

"Then, where are we taking him?" Sam asked, frowning. Natasha looked away from the road and glanced at him. A smirk played across her full, pink lips and her eyes brightened up as though she had come up with the greatest idea that had ever existed. Sam watched her as she looked back at the road until a groan from the back drew his attention away from her. Steve was breathing raggedly, and each bump Natasha drove over caused him to grunt and almost double over in pain. Sam leaned back and gently tapped Steve's knee, hoping to provide some comfort. Steve eased slightly at Sam's touch and Sam smiled as though he had just achieved victory in something great.

"Stark Towers. I called Tony. He's got his best security guarding a room that he's set up for Steve and he's got a private doctor. Steve will be safe and he'll get the help he needs." Natasha answered confidently. Sam sighed in relief and he briefly wondered why he hadn't thought of Tony in the first place. Then he remembered. He had been looking for a safe haven, somewhere unnoticed by the outside world, not one of the most famous buildings in America. But, he figured that even though it was so well known and so busy, it was probably also the safest and he approved of Natasha's decision. "Everything has to change." Natasha said suddenly.

Sam noticed for the first time that the radio was on and that a song was playing. The soft sound filled the car as he mulled over Natasha's words. He knew what she meant. "I know. HYDRA will be watching us all the time." Sam replied. He had been taken at the same time as Steve, and we was very obviously on HYDRA's radar. They had been watching him for weeks. And, he had no doubt that Natasha was on their radar, too. Their houses were no longer safe, the people they knew could no longer be trusted, and everywhere they went they had to be mindful that they were probably being watched. Everything was going to change.

"And Rumlow has intel on us that means that they have an advantage." Natasha said and Sam nodded. Chances were, HYDRA would know exactly what their skills were and what their weaknesses were. Chances were, Rumlow probably had intel on every other Avenger, which meant they were all going to be watched. Chances were, none of them would ever be safe again until HYDRA was destroyed for good, and they all knew it. They would have to take extra security measures, they would have to be more careful, more cautious, less social. Everything was going to change.

"I know. And we need to keep watch on the girl who helped us. I have her car in the underground parking by your house, we can run the license and get an address." Sam said. No matter what happened, there were two things Sam knew he needed to do. He had made a promise to himself that these were his priorities. He needed to keep Steve safe, no matter what, even if it meant risking his own life, and he needed to keep Caitlin safe. Sam didn't know why, but he felt an indescribable loyalty to Steve, a bond that would push him to even risking his own life to safe Steve. He guessed you could call it an unbreakable bond.

"Already done." Natasha replied with a confident smirk and a playful snort. Sam looked at her and frowned, wondering how the hell she had thought of that. She must have picked up on his confusion because she elaborated further. "Steve pointed the car out to me. Asked me to run the license and everything. Already called the favor in. We know her name and address and we have two agents watching her place. We'll keep them there on twenty-four hour watch, alternating shifts, for at least a month."

Sam turned around to face Steve again and food himself marveling at Steve's strength. Even half conscious, fighting agony, and succumbing to blood loss and shock, Steve still thought of others first. Steve was selfless, a quality very few people had ever experienced and a quality even fewer people possessed. Sam was once again fueled with anger as he thought of the injustice of the world. Steve did not deserve what had been done to him. He didn't deserve to be suffering silently in the back of Natasha's car, fighting to stay conscious, fighting to stay alive. "Bucky's gone."Sam whispered.

Steve showed no sign of hearing Sam, but Natasha apparently had. As Sam turned in his seat and faced the road again, Natasha glanced at him and he saw a look of sympathy pass over her usually unreadable face. Whether it was sympathy for Steve or for himself or Bucky, Sam was unsure. "I know." She said, nodding. Another desperate whimper from the back sliced through the air and Sam knew Steve was hurting, he knew Steve was suffering, but he stopped himself from turning around in the leather seats. He couldn't look at Steve when he spoke about Bucky. He didn't want to be able to see the hurt on Steve's face or the betrayal in his eyes. Not again.

"He said he couldn't stick around. He said he would always make sure Steve was okay, but he needed to leave." Sam explained further. He didn't expect a response, so he was shocked when he got one. Natasha's small hand wrapped comfortingly around his own hand and she gave his dirty had a small squeeze before pulling away. Blood still coated Sam's skin. Blood that wasn't his, and, for the first time, he felt nauseas just looking at it. His best friend's blood was caked dry on his hands, blood that should have been in Steve's body.

"Steve understands." Natasha offered simply. Sam looked up and watched her as she wove through the traffic, clearly in a rush to reach their destination. Steve's whimpers and cries were becoming more frequent and more desperate, and Sam felt helpless sitting in the passenger seat. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't help Steve by alleviating the pain, he couldn't help Natasha by making the car go faster. He was helpless, and in all senses of the word, he was useless, and he felt like it.

"He does?" Sam asked. He wondered for a second how Steve had figured out, and he wondered for a second longer what his reaction had been. Part of him was glad that he had been asleep when Steve had figured out that Bucky was gone, but part of him wished he had been there to comfort Steve, to explain to him why Bucky had left. The more he thought about it, the more Bucky's move made sense, and the better it seemed. Maybe it was better if Bucky just left, rather sooner than later.

"Yeah. He figured it out the second he woke up. Said he understood. Got a letter from him or something." Natasha explained. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and turned in his seat so he was facing Steve. He noticed that Steve's left hand was tightly curled around a piece of paper, something he hadn't noticed before. Steve was still lost in a world of pain and he obviously hadn't heard any of the conversation that had gone on in the car for the last few minutes. Sam briefly considered taking the letter from Steve's hand, but he dismissed the thought when he thought about it more thoroughly. He didn't care what was on the letter, all he cared about was that it had explained what Bucky did to Steve, and it had helped Steve understand. So, Sam turned back around and faced the road again.

"He was lucid for a while when he woke up, but by the time I got him in the car he could barely form coherent sentences." Natasha said. Sam realized he must have been communicating his thoughts in his tense body language, because he had just been wondering whether Steve had been lucid. He glanced back at Steve again and looked at the way his broad shoulders were sagging as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Sam felt that way, too. He felt as though he had taken on a responsibility that was weighing him down, dragging him down viciously. Again, it seemed as though Natasha read his mind because she added, "HYDRA is going to come after us until it's destroyed. But it's something we can all handle as a team. It's not just your responsibility, Sam."

Sam nodded, trying to take her words into consideration, but it sure did feel like it was his responsibility and his alone. Then he sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to make his body relax and he leaned back against the black leather seating. "I know. But what do we do? How do we make sure they don't get Steve again? How do we make sure they don't get one of you, or me?" Sam asked, trying to slow his fast heartbeat. He wondered how much stress a human heart could take before it became too much. It kind of felt like he was close to reaching that point.

"Sam, we can't make sure. But we can damn well try. The Avengers will fight HYDRA until their last man is downed, and even then we will continue fighting. That, I can promise you." Natasha responded. It was those words that finally calmed Sam down. He realized that Steve had one, huge family and that they were all willing to risk their lives for him just as he was. And, in some strange way, Sam had been accepted into the family and they would all work together to protect Steve and to protect each other. The weight on his shoulders lessened as he managed a small smile and turned back round so he was facing Steve. He leaned over and gave Steve another tap on the leg, and this time, Steve opened his eyes to watery slits and returned to smile. It quickly turned into a grimace, but that response was all Sam needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

As soon as Natasha had pulled up to Stark Towers, a flurry of activity had ensued and Sam had got lost in it. He was dragged inside and forced into one of the rooms where he was firmly told to sit on the bed and not to move. He nodded and sat on the bed for what felt like hours before a doctor rushed inside. Her red hair was unruly and her fair skin was flushed from stress and activity. He recognized her as the doctor who had helped Steve two months ago, performed the surgery that had saved Steve's life. There she was again, saving America's hero, again, and not even asking for anything in return.

The doctor told Sam to undress and he did so compliantly as he looked around the room. It was a room he had never been in before. It was small and square, with dark blue painted walls and a large window that stretched across the entire span of one of the walls. The room had a hospital bed and a grey couch across from it, sunlight bathed the room and warmed the cool air. The doctor checked his wounds as she pulled off the gauze, then she smiled and nodded in approval. "This is pretty good, did you do it yourself?" She asked as she stood to her full height of five-nine and pulled off her latex gloves.

Sam shook his head and gratefully accepted a pair of light green scrubs and socks that the doctor handed to him. She replaced the gauze and gently took Sam's arm in her arm. Her hand was cold and Sam shivered involuntarily at her touch. She turned his arm over and smiled again, gently running a forefinger over the puncture wound where Natasha had inserted the IV last night. "This is professional work. Have you already been examined?" The doctor asked again and Sam shook his head. Deep inside he hoped that Natasha's work was professional enough to save Steve's life. The doctor handed Sam some wet wipes and he wiped off the blood that had crusted on his arms. For a moment, he stared at the brown-red on the wet wipes and he gulped nervously. Steve had lost a lot of blood.

"Agent Romanoff did it. Where's Steve?" Sam asked, suddenly aware that the doctor was with him when she should have been with Steve. An overwhelming sense of dread filled him as the doctor hesitated before answering. Steve couldn't be dead, he had seemed okay in the car. Sure, he had been in pain, and sure, he had been suffering from blood loss and shock, but he had been conscious, and Sam had taken that as a good sign. He hoped that he hadn't counted his chickens before the eggs hatched.

"Don't worry, he's okay. The nurses are prepping him for surgery. Agent Romanoff did some pretty professional work on him, too. She saved his life." The doctor explained. Sam sighed in relief and he reminded himself to give Natasha a big, sloppy kiss next time he saw her. He hadn't been fully aware of what she had been doing to Steve the night before, but whatever needles she had injected, and fluids she had administered, and procedures she had performed, they had saved Steve's life. Sam stood on shaky legs and pulled on the green scrubs and socks before collapsing into the bed. It felt good to be in clean clothing.

He felt stiff, like he had run the Comrades marathon the day before then gone on to participate in Ironman Triathlon. His wounds stung and his muscles pulled and his bones seemed to creak with every movement. He was so tired, and he felt so dirty and grimy, but he wasn't sure he would be able to stay awake long enough to shower. "I'm going to insert an IV and administrate some pretty mild painkillers. I want you to stay in this bed and rest." The doctor explained as she inserted an IV in Sam's arm right beside the old puncture wound. Sam lazily pulled the covers up so they covered him to his waist. The doctor nodded and turned to walk away, but Sam grabbed her hand in his and tugged on it so she turned to face him.

"Wake me up when he's out. Please." Sam whispered, already feeling his eyelids droop as they suddenly weighed thousands of tons. The doctor nodded and frowned as if what he was asking her was unnecessary, as if she had automatically assumed that was the standard procedure. He remembered her waking him up last time, telling him that Steve had made it through surgery but wasn't out of the woods. He remembered that she had allowed him to stay in Steve's room even after visiting hours. Sam liked that doctor. As she walked out the room, Sam felt himself slip into comforting blackness, sleep that had been beckoning him and that he could finally succumb to without feeling guilty.

It felt like only seconds later when a small hand shaking his arm woke him up and his eyes shot open. His vision was blurry for a moment and he wearily rubbed his eyes until it cleared. The familiar face of the doctor was looming over him and she smiled as his gaze focused on her. Sam expected pain but whatever aches he did feel were dulled to the point of almost nonexistence. "He's out." The doctor said with a reassuring smile. Sam suddenly remembered where he was and why he was there. It came flooding back and as the memories resurfaced, he jumped out of bed. His legs almost collapsed under him as he put weight on his injured leg, but warm hands wrapped around his arm and kept him up.

"Easy, Sam." Natasha said as she held her hands around his arm and waist, waiting until he found his equilibrium and managed to stay upright without her help. The doctor stood by, watching until Sam seemed calmer, then she walked closer and detached him from the IV and heart monitor. She gently swabbed the bleeding puncture wound on his skin before placing a standard issue band-aid over it. "You look better. Less crappy." Natasha commented with a playful smile and a soft punch to the arm.

"Gee thanks. You're making me blush." Sam joked, reveling in the welcoming comfort of the familiarity of teasing Natasha. Natasha slowly took a step back with her hands raised in the air, watching Sam as if she was expecting him to collapse without her support, but he stayed upright. "How is Steve?" Sam asked as the doctor walked out the door and Sam shuffled after her. Natasha hovered close by, obviously ready to catch him if he fell, but giving him the space he needed.

"He lost a lot of blood and he was in a lot of pain, and in the early stages of hypovolemic shock. Thanks to the serum and the work Agent Romanoff did, he managed to pull through just long enough. But, he crashed on the operating table, twice. We managed to revive him after only a few seconds, so brain damage is highly unlikely and we're giving him blood transfusions to help his body regenerate lost blood cells." The doctor explained in a soft and soothing voice as she stopped outside a door a few steps away from Sam's room. Sam nodded in understanding, and the lack of reaction from Natasha confirmed that she had heard it all before. "The bullet fragments were already removed, but I had to reopen him to repair damage to artilleries that were causing internal bleeding. The bullets missed all major organs, thank God."

The doctor opened the door leading into the room and stepped to the side to allow Sam to walk past her. The room was dimly lit, the blinds were closed and the lights were turned on slightly. The room was almost identical to Sam's, except it had far more beeping machines surrounding the hospital bed that stood in the middle of the room. What made Sam stop in his steps was the prone figure lying in the bed. Steve lay in the bed with thick bandaging around his entire midsection and most of his left shoulder and arm. His left arm was demobilized with a blue sling that held his arm agains his chest. His chest was bruised to the point of black and blue, and it rose unevenly with each intake of breath. His entire face was swollen and blue, his eyes black and his nose purple with a white strip across it. Stitches and butterfly plasters covered most of his upper body, and the parts of his body that weren't maimed were so pale that his skin blended in with the white sheets on the bed.

He was breathing with the assistance of an oxygen mask, and Sam watched it intently as it fogged with each exhale. The only thing that reassured Sam that Steve was still alive was the fogging of the oxygen mask, the soft wheezes, and the constant beeping of machines. Otherwise, he lay motionless, to the point of worrisome stillness. The doctor must have sensed Sam's worry as he took in the sight of the oxygen mask because she explained, "His sternum and ribs were shattered and he received a pneumothorax. That, coupled with the broken nose makes breathing difficult, so he needs some assistance breathing. He'll be breathing on his own before you know it."

Sam nodded slowly as he pulled the plastic chair closer to the bed and plonked down in it, staring at Steve as though he expected him to spring to action at any moment. Some part of him did expect it, Steve was a super soldier, Steve was Captain America, he was supposed to be indestructible. He was supposed to be invincible. But, there he was, lying in a bed, covered in bandaging and bruising and lacerations, not even breathing on his own. "I'm staying." Sam whispered.

He felt Natasha squeeze his shoulder comfortingly and he only vaguely heard the doctor reply, "I expected no less." before she closed the door and left Steve and Sam and Natasha alone in the room.

* * *

Sam felt more decent once he was given normal clothing to change into instead of the embarrassing scrubs he had been wearing earlier. And, after a shower and a proper meal, he felt more human. Steve still hadn't woken up, and Sam blatantly refused to leave his side until he did. On the small side table beside the couch was Steve's tattered and bloodied shoes and the small piece of folded up paper that Bucky had left a note on. On more than one occasion, Sam had been tempted to open the letter and see what Bucky had written, but he didn't want to invade Steve's privacy, so he refrained from doing so.

Natasha had left an hour or so before with Clint to search both Sam and Steve's apartments for any recording devices or tracking devices that HYDRA may have installed. Bruce was in the lab with a technician examining Sam and Steve's old clothing, trying to find any traces that could lead them to a HYDRA headquarters. Thor was still on Asgard, and Fury was still in Europe, but he had promised Tony that he would be at Stark Towers within the day. Fury had told Tony that he wanted to be around every step of the way. Sam assumed it was so that when they brought down HYDRA once and for all, he could celebrate the victory along with everyone else, and take comfort in the fact that he had played a part in their demise.

So, Tony and Sam sat in the room in a slightly tense but otherwise comfortable silence. It was tense because it had been hours and Steve still showed no sign of waking up, and the doctor said he had a fever, which could have been the last thing his body could handle before it just became too much and his battered and bruised body simply shut down. Sam shifted in the seat, never taking his gaze off Steve's rising and falling chest, almost as though he had to remind himself that Steve was actually alive. On the couch to Sam's right, he heard Tony shift and he wondered for a second whether the others knew about Bucky or not.

"Sam, we're going after HYDRA. No more waiting around." Tony said, his voice slicing through the beeping and noisiness from the machines that surrounded Steve. Sam stared at Steve's stomach and he shuddered as he remembered when Steve got shot. Sam thought about his house and the blood stain that was undoubtably on his wooden flooring, and he wondered if it would still be there when he got home or if Natasha and Clint would clean it up for him. Steve's blond hair was damp and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and Sam realized that somewhere, even in unconsciousness, Steve was hurting. Morphine only took the edge off, and there was nothing else they could do to help. Once again, Sam felt helpless. And he hated it.

"We end them." Sam added and he turned around just in time to see Tony nodding emphatically. He sat on the grey couch, with his jean clad legs crossed and his long-sleeved black shirt creased from hours of pacing and sitting and waiting. Tony glanced at Steve and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he closed it again and shook his head. He got up and walked towards the door without another word, not that Sam minded. He wasn't much in the mood for talking. But, before Tony closed the door behind him, he popped his head in the room and let his gaze linger on Steve for a long moment.

Then, his hazel eyes met Sam's dark brown ones and for a second, neither man said anything. "We don't stop till we end them. And that's a promise. Those motherfuckers will beg for mercy." Tony said, and with that, he left the room. Sam had never heard Tony talk like that before, and he realized that every Avenger was taking Steve's condition hard, they were all just showing it in their own ways. And Tony's was evidently aggression. Sam liked it. That was exactly the kind of attitude they needed if they were going to take HYDRA down. Sam turned back to Steve and sighed as he leaned back in the seat.

Sam closed his eyes momentarily and thought about the first day he met Steve. _To your left_. Steve lapped him time after time, and no matter how hard Sam pushed, he couldn't beat Steve. Steve was resilient. And he had showcased it more than once, too many times in too many bad situations, Sam believed. "... Left."

The word startled Sam and he opened his eyes quickly and scanned the face in front of him. The oxygen mask was gone and replaced with a nasal cannula, the skin was still pale and bruised and maimed, but this time, there were pained blue eyes opened to slits. Sam smiled widely as he realized that it had been Steve who had said the word and he felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Steve was awake. Steve was okay. Then, Sam remembered how familiar the scene was. He had been through this all before, waiting for Steve to wake up, if he did even ever wake up, and he hoped that he would never have to do it again. But, somewhere deep inside, he knew this wouldn't be the last time he would be sitting at Steve's bedside.

"Hey, Rogers." Sam said, standing on stiff legs and leaning over Steve so Steve didn't have to shift in order to look at him. Steve had squeezed his eyes shut again and his breathing had become more ragged as the pain threatened to pull him under again, but he managed to stay conscious, and Sam's hand on his thigh only grounded him. He opened his eyes to slits again and blinked away the tears. Steve was in agony, and Sam hated having to sit by and watch without being able to do anything, except be there for Steve, let him know he wasn't alone. "How you feeling, champ?"

Steve seemed to consider he question for a moment. His chapped lips pursed and Sam had expected Steve to say that he was okay, but Steve stayed silent for long time. He shifted only slightly before he gasped in pain and started trembling. Sam hit the call button frantically and squeezed Steve's free hand. He needed Steve to know that he wasn't alone, and he never would be, ever. "Hurts." Steve finally answered and Sam nodded. Steve's voice was weak and hoarse and pained, and Sam had to blink away tears. Steve was in agony.

"I know, but you're going to be okay." Sam said, desperately trying to ground Steve and distract him from the pain coursing through his battered and broken and damaged body. He wondered whether he was trying to convince himself or Steve before he forced himself to look away from the agonized grimace on Steve's face. His gaze traveled down to Steve's black and blue and red chest, and he wondered in amazement how Steve had been able to even breathe on his own for so long. Steve was younger than Sam, and innocent and naive, but Sam respected Steve more than he had ever respected anyone else in his life. And he could vouch for that with his life. Steve was far wiser, and far more experienced than anyone else Sam had ever met.

"Bucky... Bucky still gone?" Steve gasped and Sam felt his heart sinking. He had hoped that whatever was on the letter would keep Steve from asking about Bucky. He had hoped hat he wouldn't have to explain to Steve that his best friend had left him again, and no one knew whether he was coming back or not. His prayers went unanswered, because Steve had just asked him, and now he was looking at Sam expectantly, almost hopefully. So naive, so innocent, so undeserving of the injustice of the world.

"Yeah, Steve. Listen-" Sam began, but he was cut off when Steve struggled into a semi-sitting position, grunting and whimpering with he effort, but not giving up until he was more or less sitting. "Easy, Steve." Sam placed a hand on his chest in an attempt to push Steve back into a lying down position, but Steve weakly swatted his hand away. "Bucky's gone, but he-"

"It's okay. I know." Steve said, his gaze shifting to the letter that lay beside his shoes on the side table. Sam left Steve's side and fetched the letter. It was small and folded up, but Sam refused to open it up. Sam handed the letter to Steve and Steve took it with a quivering hand and opened it as if he was checking to see of it was the right letter. Then he nodded and sighed in relief and allowed his head to roll back against the pillows. "Thanks." Steve whispered.

"No problem. I'm sorry, Steve." Sam whispered. Steve looked so young and small and innocent lying on that hospital bed, and, despite the bulging muscles, he looked vulnerable and childlike.

"Don't be." Steve said, shaking his head. Sam nodded and perched himself on the edge of Steve's bed, watching as Steve slid further down, his energy draining from his fatigued and broken body. "Sam... Thank you." Steve whispered so softly that Sam barely heard it. Sam didn't say anything at first, he just looked at Steve incredulously. Thank you for what, Sam wondered. Thanks for allowing you to get shot? Thanks for letting Bucky leave, again? Thanks for not being able to protect you?

"For what?" Sam asked, suddenly angry with himself for not trying harder. Steve grabbed his hand and squeezed it weakly before releasing it and letting it fall back down to his side.

"For everything. For saving me. For sticking by me... For trusting Bucky." Steve whispered. He said it with such sincerity that Sam didn't have the heart to argue, so he only nodded. Steve closed his eyes and squeezed Sam's hand again. This time, as he pulled his hand away, something dropped from it and Sam looked at it. It was the letter from Bucky. He left it there as he looked back up and watched Steve's chest rise and fall again. He wondered whether he deserved Steve's gratitude. He didn't. He hadn't been able to protect Steve, he hadn't been able to save Steve. What had he done other than watch Steve get injured? He had tried, but soemtimes trying isn't enough. But, he didn't want to argue with Steve, not while he was in pain and only semiconscious.

Sam thought about Bucky and how far away he was. He thought about whether Bucky was close enough to be watching Steve. He had a gut feeling that Bucky was close, close to Steve, probably always had been. The doctor walked into the room and Sam stood aside once he was sure Steve was either unconscious or asleep again. He could tell by the way Steve's face relaxed and his breathing evened out and he stopped trembling. Steve healed fast, but that didn't mean he didn't feel pain, and it broke Sam's heart that Steve was suffering so profusely. And he would be for the next few days. All Sam could do was stay by Steve, never leave his side. Be there for Steve like Bucky once had been.

The doctor adjusted tubing and recorded readins and checked vitals quickly and efficiently. "He's a fighter." She commented. Sam nodded. _I know_, he thought.

Sam looked down at Steve's legs and his gaze lingered on the note lying just beside Steve. It was open and the writing was facing Sam. The words were written in untidy, huge, scribbled black letters. They were hard to miss, and Sam allowed himself to look at the letter that had put Steve at ease. He didn't get it, but he figured it had some sort of significance to Steve and Bucky. One that he wouldn't inquire about. Something special between old friends. Something that had convinced Steve that Bucky was back and The Winter Soldier was gone. Ten simple words offered a world of explanation.

_I'm with you till the end of the line. Always._

_THE END._

* * *

**_There's a few things I left open-ended. This gives me freedom to explore them in the sequel, if there is one, or for the reader to join their own dots. Either way! _**

**_Thank you so much, again, for the fantastic, breath-taking support! _**


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